Criminal Minds: The Long Summer
by Forestwytch
Summary: The continuing tale of Rossi and his experiences within the BAU. Set in the summer between season 6 & 7, it explores the cases that the team took on in that time. Second part of the Pip Harker trilogy.
1. Dreams

_A/n: Welcome back! This is the second part of a trilogy, if you haven't read_ Criminal Minds: Behind the Scenes _, please do go back and read that first or none of this will make sense. The Long Summer is a little different: instead of following canon storylines, this focusses on the summer between season 6 and 7. Very little is ever said about what happened in that time, so I've taken the opportunity to let my imagination wander._

 _There are also companion pieces that will be published under the title of_ Criminal Minds: Missing Conversations _which are optional, but tell part of the story from points of view other than Rossi's._

 _Without further ado, I present Criminal Minds: The Long Summer._

* * *

 _Dreams_

 _ **A 'hello again' after the final goodbye is sometimes harder than just keeping the goodbye as it was - Jessiqua Wittman**_

Rossi smiled in his sleep. He was dreaming about being on a spectacular beach, the scotch having sent him somewhere glorious for once. White sand, clear waters, beautiful sunrise, a gentle breeze. There was even a palm tree, its fronds rustling softly at the edge of his hearing. It had been a while since he'd felt so peaceful. The only thing that marred it was that someone had forgotten to turn off his cell phone. The ringing was eventually silenced, but the wavelets that had been softly lapping at his toes slowly receded until they were out of sight, and the sunrise was replaced by the uninspiring view of his bedroom ceiling.

He groaned, and rolled himself upright. These days, once he was awake, he was awake. No point lying in bed for hours when he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Especially not with a hangover. The early hours of the morning when he couldn't sleep were when he'd think of Pip, and rest never came while she occupied his thoughts.

Coffee. That was first priority. He'd need it if he was going to have to go into work after waking up at…what time was it? Rossi turned on the bedside light to peer at the clock and groaned again, with feeling. Almost 5am. Two hours sleep wasn't enough by any means, but it looked like that was all he was going to get. At least Hotch had said they could come in later than usual. Small mercy, but he'd work with it.

He'd better get the Blue Mountain blend out if he was planning on being a functional human being by the time he was due in the office. At least Mudgie wouldn't expect a philosophical discussion before caffeine had been taken aboard. His sensible dog was usually content to simply avoid his master until suitable quantities had been imbibed, as long as his food bowl had something in it.

It was a pity the same couldn't always be said of his colleagues. Reid in particular, felt that first thing in the morning was the time to ponder such points as whether children of multiple births ever considered that one or more of them of them were unplanned; or if anyone else had thought about the fact that asking for somebody's name was basically just asking what noise one should make to catch their attention. Yesterday morning's little titbit had been about brushing one's teeth. Something about it being the only time you clean your skeleton. Dealing with Reid before coffee was somewhat of a trial. It always had been, but recently had been much more irritating.

On the subject of cleaning, he'd fallen into bed still wearing the previous day's clothes. Again.

"You drink too much, Dave," he muttered to himself, wincing at the sour taste of second-hand whisky in his mouth and the pounding in his head. "Got to stop doing this, old man."

Rossi fumbled for his cell on the nightstand to turn off the now-redundant alarm he only vaguely remembered setting. He glanced at the screen and froze. Three words sat smugly on the display in defiance of all that was possible. Seconds ticked past as he read them over and over again, as if expecting them to change. Then he rubbed his eyes. It wasn't real. He was still dreaming, the beach replaced with something far more peculiar and cruel. He read the words again.

"Missed call, Pip." Uttering it aloud went some way to convincing Rossi that he wasn't still asleep. "Impossible."

"Please God, tell me I'm not going mad," he prayed as he hit redial.

A busy tone met his ear and Rossi frowned. He hung up and then delved into the details of the missed call. Pip's old cell phone had been disconnected six months after she left. It was unlikely someone was calling him from her office line, which only left the landline at her apartment.

His suspicions were confirmed. Someone had phoned him from her landline, and was _still_ using it. _Someone was in her apartment_. Rossi was down the stairs and on the road in record time, hangover and thoughts of coffee temporarily forgotten. He was probably still over the drink-drive limit, but the ice-cold focus that hope gave him would have let him pass any roadside check bar the breathalyser. A voicemail came through as he was running down the stairs, and he played it in the car as he drove. He was none the wiser, the only thing the message had picked up before cutting off was the faint sound of breathing.

Rossi tore up the stairs to Pip's apartment, heedless of the noise he was making. Todd and Leon could moan at him later if he was wrong, heaven knew the pair of them had woken him up partying downstairs more than once when he'd been trying to sleep. He stopped on her landing, panting for breath and stomach turning over as he caught sight of a smeared bloodied handprint on the doorframe. The door itself was ajar, light from the living room spilling out into the hallway. There were no sounds of movement, but Rossi drew his weapon anyway.

He burst in, gun raised, only to halt paralysed in the doorway.

"Pip!" he breathed.

Pip lay sprawled on the floor in front of her sofa as if she'd tried to sit down and missed, then not had the energy to move. Her landline phone was next to one limp outstretched hand. The casual jeans and t-shirt she'd been wearing with trainers last time he'd seen her, had been replaced with desert khakis and a once-white vest top, paired with a pair of heavy duty tan coloured boots. A tatty grey jacket was draped haphazardly over one of her shoulders as if she'd passed out trying to take it off. All her clothing was covered in grease and oil, and a fair amount of blood. The jacket did nothing to hide the bruises that marred her arms and chest, in fact she was bruised everywhere he could see, other than her face. Pip made no indication she'd heard his intrusion.

Rossi quickly cleared the apartment room by room before holstering his weapon and rushing to Pip's side, desperately feeling for a pulse. He found one. It was faster than he'd like, but it was there.

She was alive. She was _home_.

It felt like a breath Rossi hadn't realised he'd been holding for a year was released, one long exhale of relief that loosened the tight belt of anxiety around his chest by at least a couple of notches.

He gave her a quick glance over, checking for serious injuries, but found nothing obvious. Her hands were bloody and raw as if she'd been in a fight, and she was covered in bruises, but physically at least, she looked more or less ok.

"I owe you one," Rossi muttered, eyes raised to God. "Thank you. You listened. I'll go to mass on Sunday, I promise."

Rossi rolled Pip over onto her back. No reaction, nothing. He half-stood to awkwardly dig in his pocket for his cell phone to call her an ambulance, while leaving one hand resting on her shoulder. To reassure himself that she was really there.

"Hang on, Pip," he muttered desperately. "Help's on the way…"

The tensing of the muscles beneath his hand was his only warning as he rooted in his pocket, having completely forgotten the landline Pip had been using.

Rossi unexpectedly found himself flung flat on his back with Pip looming above him, a crazed look in her eyes. One foot pinned the hand clutching his cell phone to the floor, his other arm was held fast by her thumb digging painfully into a pressure point deep in his bicep. Her other foot, clad in a steel toe cap boot, pressed uncomfortably against his testicles. The flurry of movement ended with a knife at his throat, the razor edge still turning slightly and biting with a sharp sting as the motion slowed. Then…then it stopped. Rossi froze, hardly daring to breathe.

He didn't try and resist. He was physically stronger but in his current position and with her hair-trigger reactions, resistance would probably get him neutered as well as his throat cut. Although not necessarily in that order.

Was it his imagination, or was the pressure on the cold metal threatening to open his jugular easing a little?

He swallowed carefully, hearing and feeling the blade rasp against the unmown stubble over his Adam's apple. It wasn't his imagination. There was definitely less force behind it.

"Pip?" he whispered. The blade was barely resting against him now. He tried again to get her attention. "Pip? It's me. It's Dave."

"Dave?" There was an odd slur to her voice, enough to make Rossi wonder if he'd missed a head injury when he'd checked her over.

"It's me," he assured her. "Put the knife down?" he asked, a little nervously. "Please?"

The blade was withdrawn entirely, along with the steel toecap, and Pip backed away. Rossi sat up quickly to catch her as she slumped sideways, dropping the knife as she fell. The explosion of effort had drained her of what little energy she possessed.

Rossi propped her up against him. "Pip, let me call you an ambulance," he said desperately.

"No," she mumbled. "Gotta get offa boat." She started to struggle weakly against him, trying to stand.

Rossi held her firmly. "Pip! No, Pip, it's ok. You're home. You're safe." He kept repeating that until it sank in. He knew the moment she'd heard him; Pip just sagged bonelessly, giving in. Rossi sat with her on the floor for a while, trying to let his hammering heart calm down. When his hands stopped shaking, he took a moment to run careful fingers over his throat to investigate the nick she'd given him. It was bleeding, but not much. He'd managed worse while shaving tired or hungover. Or both.

He took another look at Pip when she stirred once more, shifting uncomfortably against him, and changed his mind about how badly off she was. "You need a hospital."

"No hospitals. You can't tell anyone I'm back, not yet. I just need sleep. I'm exhausted." Pip rolled away from him, retrieving the knife and tucking it away in the holster at her back with casual ease that spoke of practice. She lumbered ponderously first to her knees, and then to her feet. Rossi scrambled up to steady her as she stumbled. Pip inhaled and snorted. "And a shower. I _really_ need a shower."

He couldn't disagree, she stank; but her flippancy infuriated him, still reeling from the shock of firstly seeing her alive if not entirely well, then being held at knifepoint. Rossi let go of her and took a step back. "That's it?!" he cried. "You've been gone for nearly a year! JJ even told me you were dead! Don't I deserve some answers?"

"Not yet. Shower first." She started to move in the direction of the bathroom.

"You promised me. You _promised_ me, that if you came back, you'd tell me."

His words halted her progress, as he'd intended. She hung her head.

"Yes," she whispered. "I did." She turned her head slowly to meet his eyes. "And I will. But I need to wash the aftermath off me before I can."

There was no expression on her face. That blankness was what Rossi would remember in years to come. Pip standing there completely void of emotion, everything buried so far down inside that _nothing_ showed. She could have been a robot, if not for the shakiness in her knees that spoke of her exhaustion.

He was desperate for answers, but Rossi could only nod jerkily before turning away to close the still-open front door and head for the kitchen to satisfy the suddenly renewed urgency for caffeine.

He found half a pizza, furry with age, while absently hunting for milk in the fridge. The last time he'd spent the night at her apartment hadn't been long enough ago for that to happen surely? Rossi searched his memory. That had been...what case? San Diego, that was it. The college stalker he'd shot dead. Strauss had been all over them after Emily's supposed death and knowing what he knew, he'd wanted an escape from the scrutiny. Pip's apartment had served as a bolt hole for times like that more than once since she'd left. He'd meant to come back for the pizza, but had obviously forgotten. His memory was shot to shit lately.

Nearly a month. A month since he'd been back to self-flagellate over losing Pip. There was no milk, even if there had been, it would be well out of date by now. He didn't fancy drinking it black on top of the whisky, and after some time spent searching her cupboards, found the pot of emergency powdered creamer he knew was in there somewhere. That would do. He dumped a load into a mug and shook a measure of coffee into her machine from the brand new packet he'd bought same night as the pizza. Fuck the spoon; he'd measure it by eye. If it was a bit too strong, well, maybe that was for the best, given what he'd done to end up falling into bed fully-clothed. Again.

Pip emerged from the bathroom about half an hour later, wrapped in a towel and carrying her knife holsters. She slipped into the bedroom and returned minutes later, towel around her head and dressed simply in a long t-shirt and leggings. By then, Rossi was on his third mug and both his temper and his hangover had abated some. They looked at each other awkwardly, for the first time in their friendship, neither of them knew what to say.

Eventually Pip flopped down next to him on the sofa, casually shedding the towel and throwing it in the direction of the beanbag. She missed.

"Typical," she huffed. "Ooh, I'm going to be stiff as a surfboard tomorrow." She sighed happily, her eyes closing as she lounged back. "Aah, I missed this."

"What? Your sofa? Your apartment? Virginia? What did you miss, Pip?" he asked, sharper than he'd meant to.

The hangover had definitely eased off, but maybe his temper had only been biding its time. He wanted to ask if she'd missed _him_ too, but that was only one more elephant of the herd currently crammed into the room with them.

"Safety." That instantly halted the re-emergence of his anger in its tracks.

Pip reached for his hand and smiled when she found it, eyes still closed. "I kep' fightin'. Pills so it wouldn' hurt, pills to keep me awake." Pip was barely whispering now, Rossi had to lean close to hear her. "Have t' fight, have t'get home. Home to Dave where i's safe…"

"Pip?" Rossi shook her shoulder. "Pip!"

"Lemme sleep," she mumbled. "Jus' coupla hours. Then I'll 'splain everythin'."

He couldn't rouse her again. Rossi sighed in frustration and stood to lay Pip down on the sofa, covering her with the blanket that lived over the back of it. He rearranged the cushions under her head, trying not to look too closely at the bruising and new scars that littered her arms. One in particular caught his attention, a wide streak of fresh scar tissue at the top of her left arm, the skin still pink and new. Rossi traced it gently with his fingers, feeling the furrow of the wound. Gunshot, and it looked like she'd stitched it herself. A glancing hit, but a gunshot wound nonetheless. As if she didn't have enough of those already.

He stood there, looking down at her. She was a mess, no doubt, but she had called him. Not her handlers, not an ambulance. _Him_. He shivered, suddenly cold, his heart pounding. She'd been through hell and she'd called _him,_ and he'd barely given her a chance to breathe before demanding answers.

Rossi went to make more coffee. He would let Pip sleep for the two hours she'd asked for, under his close scrutiny. If her condition worsened, he'd call an ambulance and she could shout at him later. If it didn't...well, he'd see where that would take him.

On his way back into the living room, Rossi spotted her well-worn leather backpack lying carelessly by the door and picked it up. He'd missed it on his way in, more concerned about Pip. He fought a brief dispute with his morals, before setting down his coffee and yanking the bag open. Pawing through a friend's belongings without permission was distasteful, but it had to be done. Pip had talked about pills.

As uncomfortable as he felt doing it, Pip's bag was a guide to what her life had been like while she'd been away. Lying on top as if she'd only taken it off when she dropped the bag down, was a solitary leather glove. Obviously one of a pair, but the other was nowhere to be seen. Rossi turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. Fingerless, but with what felt like a padded metal strip embedded across the knuckles. More subtle than knuckledusters, but probably just as effective. The state of her hands made more sense now. Presumably, Pip had lost the other glove in a scuffle and fought on just wearing one.

In the top of the backpack, he found the expected dirty clothes; Rossi simply dumped them straight in the washer and set it going while avoiding looking too closely at the bloodstains. It would be a miracle if they washed out, but apparently, miracles were in season at the moment. Worth a try, in any case.

There was a lone 9mm bullet and a shell casing from a .22 rifle round in amongst the clothing. He put them carefully to one side, knowing Pip wouldn't have kept them unless she had a reason.

Under the laundry, was a small wash kit along with a tiny towel. Underneath that, a neat flint and steel set wrapped in a little leather purse with a selection of lockpicks, and a whetstone for her knives. To which there was a new addition, tucked vertically down the inside of the bag. Longer than the pair he was familiar with and slightly curved, it had wicked serrations along one edge and sharp points set just above the hilt. A deep gutter ran the length of the blade. It was the most evil-looking knife Rossi had seen in a long time. He re-sheathed it carefully and set it to one side with a shudder.

But there were no pills.

Over years, random detritus pooled at the bottom of most well-travelled bags. Perhaps the pills had slipped down there too. Rossi turned the backpack upside down on the coffee table to see what Pip's collection of oddments was.

It was fairly eclectic to say the least. A seashell. Two condoms and the wrapper for a third. Half a biscuit, well-aged and covered in lint – the other half probably made up part of the greyish dust and grit that now coated everything on the table. A used book of waterproof matches. A small lump of rock that looked to have a thin vein of gold running through it. A .308 shell casing threaded onto a loop of leather, with an apple etched on the side. A red biro that looked like she'd stolen it from his desk – he had lost one around the time she'd gone, damned if he knew how she'd managed that. It was probably the one she'd written her note to him with. A sterile wipe and a packet that had once contained nylon sutures. A length of fishing line and a wire saw. Two coins of unrecognisable denomination or currency. A handful of paperclips intertwined around a couple of safety pins and a broken lockpick. No pills.

Rossi swept the oddments into a heap and fetched a cloth to wipe up the gritty grey stuff that now covered everything, including his coffee. The ruined beverage went down the sink, and he set the machine going on a fresh round, leaving it to brew while he hung up her discarded towel.

Pip stirred as he sat down again. So much for two hours, she'd barely been out for forty-five minutes.

"Hey," she mumbled, stretching a little. Assessing hazel eyes flickered over his face and down to his crumpled clothing. "You look like shit."

"Says she," retorted Rossi sharply, not in the mood to spar with her.

Pip sat up, looking around at the neat piles of her kit laid out on the table. Her slow survey ended back at his face, and Rossi just returned her stare. He hadn't found anything, but he wasn't sorry he'd looked.

Pip cocked her head as if listening to an internal debate, then nodded as consensus was achieved. "In the lining between the outer and the inner pocket."

"Huh?" he asked stupidly.

"The codeine. That's what you're looking for, isn't it?" Pip pointed to her backpack, next to his feet. "Take it. Please. What little is left is in a hidden pouch in the lining between the outer and inner sections of the bag. Get it as far away from me as possible."

"How long for?" he asked, already rummaging. He knew what to ask, she'd told him years ago. Other things could wait. "How much?"

"Three days. Two of those about every five hours or so. Not enough that I'll need intervention, but enough to ruin years of good work. For three days, I've lived on caffeine, adrenaline," Pip grimaced, "and _lots_ of codeine. I jumped off the wagon and then stood in front of it so it so it could run me down. I had to. I had to stay awake, had to keep fighting." She held up her hands. The knuckles, now clean, looked really sore, her left worse than her right. "Nothing's broken, but it fucking felt like it."

Rossi found the elusive pills and pocketed them for safekeeping. The chill he'd felt earlier returned with a vengeance and he cradled his mug close to his body as if trying to absorb the heat directly.

"Had to keep them off me somehow," she muttered quietly.

Rossi's head jerked up at her words, his hand tensing uneasily around his coffee. It was bad enough knowing that she'd been shot at, that she'd again resorted to drugs to get by. If she'd been raped too, he was liable to break something.

"Who?" he asked impatiently. "Pip, try straight answers for once. Start at the beginning."

"The beginning? That bit was only the beginning of the end. I was nearly home," snorted Pip, before taking a deep breath. "I got myself disavowed - that's why you can't tell anyone I'm home. So, I had to make my own way out. Luckily, I still have some contacts in the area, so I exchanged my rifle for passage north, and my handgun to get across the Caspian and through into Turkey. Fed a sob story to a young American couple holidaying on a cruise ship docked in Istanbul and they smuggled me aboard. I got a relatively comfortable week's sail across the ocean to Miami."

Pip laughed humourlessly. "Figured I'd be safe once I hit the US, but actually, that's when the trouble started. I had no papers, no money, no ID and a price on my head, so I had to make my own way back from Florida. I figured the easiest way was by sea, so I hopped a car transporter bound for Norfolk, thinking I'd hitch from there. Trouble was, I'd got too comfortable on the cruise liner. I let my guard down, and I was discovered by two of the engineers on the last day before we made port. They wanted payment, and so did every guy who picked me up on the highway between Norfolk and Quantico. I've alternated between fighting back and fighting to stay awake ever since I landed Stateside."

Rossi's blood ran even colder as he processed what she meant. "Oh, God…Did anyone…?" He couldn't bring himself to complete the sentence.

Pip shook her head and offered him a reassuring smile when Rossi breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Just a crappy end to add to a crappy year. If I never see sand again, it will be too soon. And the spiders…" Pip shuddered. " _Huge_ , and fucking _armoured_. And they could run. Fuck me, could they _run."_

"You think you've had a crappy year?" shot Rossi irritably. "Wasn't exactly roses here either. JJ told me you were _dead_."

"Is that why you're drinking too much?" she asked reprovingly. "Take it from an addict, Dave, it doesn't work."

"I fucking know that," he spat sharply. "You think I don't know that by now?" He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Why did JJ think you were dead?" He knew that JJ would not have mislead him deliberately, but her information had come from _somewhere_ , and it had been faulty.

"I had an opportunity to settle an old score," replied Pip grimly before pausing. "There were concerns about a leak in an information hunt and my objectives were related to both angles of concern," she said slowly, obviously trying to tell him everything and yet nothing at the same time. "I had two tasks: hunting for the leak and protecting someone. I watched, and I waited. My protection target came and went in a fairly regular pattern, but then I had a chance…my uh, _protectee_ was out of the area unexpectedly after having just got back, so I took off for a while. He won't rape any more young boys," she added smugly.

Rossi shuddered.

"I missed several check-ins and when I came back," Pip shrugged, "I didn't correct the assumption that had been made, because it made my job easier. I stayed out of communication for the rest of the trip." Her eyes slid sideways, away from him. "I hope she forgives me for that," she muttered, a frown forming.

Never mind _him_ and what JJ's notification had done to him. Rossi couldn't help feeling a little put out that Pip wanted forgiveness from JJ, but not from him.

"I was back in place before my safekeeping objective returned from wherever they'd been," continued Pip after a moment's contemplation. "The hunt for the leak ramped up and a party drove out into the desert, where it was harder for me to follow. There was an IED attack and an ambush, something I should have known about and didn't. Maybe it's because I skipped out and missed something, maybe not. Either way, there were casualties." Pip slowly rubbed her hand over the fresh scar on her arm as if remembering how she'd come by the wound.

"I nearly lost my charge, the more important of the two objectives, to my mind at least. They eventually left safely, if not entirely unharmed. I stayed behind and did a little investigating of my own, to find the culprits." Pip reached forward to pick up the .22 shell case from the coffee table, bouncing it casually in her hand.

"This?" she said, holding it out in her hand for him to see. "This is a receipt for a debt I took it upon myself to pay. I never found the man in charge, he was long gone, but I got his second in command. The guy who planted the IEDs that blew up the convoy. I blew out his knees to stop him running, then shot his balls off at close range with a hollow point round."

Rossi cringed in sympathetic pain and clutched himself defensively. "Bloody hell," he muttered, nauseated at how calmly Pip had described what she'd done.

Pip snorted. "His last minutes on this earth were exactly that. Trust me when I say it was justice."

Still with his hands over his crotch, Rossi shivered at the darkness in her voice. He killed in the line of duty, and so had Pip in the course of both her careers. Regardless of the situation, taking a human life always left a mark. Now, Pip was talking about cold-blooded premeditated murder, first of a paedophile, then of a conspirator in an explosion. Instead of the expected horror, all Rossi could sense from her was a bleak satisfaction that came from fulfilling a thirst for vengeance. He'd interviewed serial killers more affected by their actions.

"His death was what finally got all my lifelines cut," she continued. "He gave me some information, in between the screaming. I never got a name, he died too quickly for that, but he told me there was someone else calling the shots. One of ours. The leak was from the _inside_. I tried to make contact, but the sat phone number I'd been given was disconnected, the safe house obliterated. I was on my own. Burned, abandoned, for that shred of information. Somehow, someone knew what I'd found and had me cut off. It's taken me over a month to get home."

It was a lot to take in. "How come I only heard from you the once?" asked Rossi, looking for a way out of discussing blood and the lives she had taken; if only because her monotone was chilling, and he couldn't take it anymore. "I spent months waiting, hoping. I _mourned_ you."

"I couldn't," she replied heavily. "I wanted to, but I couldn't. I flew out with a deployment of marines, travelled as one of them. When I took my leave of the squad I'd used as camouflage, I asked one to get that sketch to an Agent Afloat, and to tell them to get it back to headquarters. I knew it would get to you eventually. After that, I had no opportunities that wouldn't have blown my cover and got me killed."

"Why you?" That was the biggest question. The one he'd asked the night she left.

Pip gave him a sad sort of smile. "Actually, I already told you, in a way. I've been there before, that area. Twice actually, although first time I was just another marine passing through. Second time was the missile strike I told you about. For what they wanted…they needed someone who knew the place, and was known there, for the wrong reasons. A rumour here, a whisper there, and suddenly everyone around me was fighting each other for an opportunity to take my head. All the time they were doing that, there was a chance they'd let something slip." She grimaced. "I was the bait, and you know what often happens to bait when you're catching big fish."

Rossi nodded. The fish might get caught, but the bait was swallowed up first.

"That's why JJ assumed I was dead, it wasn't exactly out of the realms of possibility and there was no reason anyone knew for me to stay out of contact." Pip glanced over at him, unease clear. "There. That's the entire story, more or less; even if I did tell it out of sequence. I promised you, and I've honoured that, but you should know I've just committed treason by telling you, and you've committed treason by listening."

"We crossed that line when you phoned me the night you left," retorted Rossi. "Pip…" He reached for her, almost withdrawing when he felt her tense under his hand, much as she'd done earlier. Rossi persevered, finally pulling her to him.

"I missed you," he whispered in her ear around the lump in his throat. "God, Pip, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," she replied, and they stayed there, clutching each other until exhaustion took them.


	2. Nightmares

_Nightmares_

 _ **The sweetness of reunion is the joy of heaven - Richard Paul Evans**_

Rossi let himself into Pip's apartment, stilling when he didn't immediately hear signs of life. He had gone through the entire day was waiting for the bubble burst, for the dream to end. Waiting to wake up to the knowledge that she really _was_ dead and not coming back.

He'd only slept an hour before waking, using Pip's shower and rummaging a set of work appropriate-clothes together from the selection he still kept at her apartment. He had left Pip asleep on the sofa, going to the office early with the intention of telling Hotch that he was going to actually try and use some of his annual leave.

Instead of Hotch, the first person he'd bumped into had been Phillips. Loitering in the lobby as if he'd been expecting him, Phillips accosted Rossi with a fistful of paperwork that needed his attention. Where Pip had been happy to barge into anyone's office at any time for any reason, Phillips preferred to lurk in ambush and catch people as they arrived. Which meant Rossi trusted him when he said Hotch wasn't in yet. Diverted from the matter at hand, Rossi let himself be shepherded to his office to deal with the latest instalment of the never-ending bureaucratic bullshit that required his input.

Almost two hours later, Rossi finally managed to sneak out of his office and make his way next door.

"You weren't supposed to be here early," said Hotch crossly, glancing up briefly from the file he was working on as Rossi tapped lightly on his doorframe. "You're working too much, Dave. I told everyone that half nine was fine, but I could already hear you rustling about like a gerbil in there when I got here at eight." Hotch gestured vaguely behind him, then looked back up, a frown crossing his face.

The second look Rossi got was longer, something Hotch had seen but not understood in the first glance needing further examination. He knew he looked worn out, mainly because he was. Pip's shower was good, but not a cure-all panacea and before that, he'd been up late chasing oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. An hour's sleep after the characteristically chaotic arrival of Pip back in his life wasn't going to shift the dark smudges under his eyes.

Still, Hotch's evaluation made him feel like he was being dissected. Rossi knew his friend was worried about his short temper of late, about him drinking too much, not sleeping enough. Working too hard to distract himself. He'd been walking around for nearly three months feeling like a collection of broken pieces held together by an all-too-fragile layer of skin, and some of that had to have shown. With Pip's return, all that would ease.

"And yet, here you are too," Rossi countered with a reassuring smile. "Do as I say, not as I do, hmm?" He took a leisurely seat in the chair across Hotch's desk and tried not to overanalyse Hotch's continued scrutiny.

"That's the bonus of being Unit Chief," replied Hotch eventually. "Sure you don't want the job?" he asked with a cautious teasing tone.

"I'm pretty sure there'd be lots of people dead against the idea, me being the first in line," said Rossi with a smile. "Sounds like too much hard work."

There was some relief in the smile he got in return, mixed with good-natured if somewhat mocking agreement. They both knew how much he loved the paperwork. Rossi felt the guilt wind its way around him. It had been too long since Hotch had aimed one of those smiles in his direction, too wary of his response. Last time he'd tried to joke about with him, Rossi had snarled back so harshly that Hotch hadn't tried since. The relief on his friend's face was enough to convince Rossi that asking for time off was the best thing he could do, not just for Pip. He needed some time too. Time to get his head together, to sort himself out.

"Actually," added Rossi, "I came in to ask if I can take at least the next couple of weeks off."

Hotch put down his pen and stared. "All in one go? You're actually planning to stay out of here for more than a few days? Should I just cancel everyone else's down time now, or do I wait for you to find the dead body first?"

"No need to be insulting," muttered Rossi. "It's not like I deliberately set out to sabotage my AL."

"With your record, I have to wonder," retorted Hotch with an easy smile. "What's your tally? Five bodies, an abduction, a girl you'd spoken to the night before who was murdered, and a serial killer who inexplicably turned up in your hotel room to confess. That's apart from The Butcher, that one's on me."

"You forgot the carjacking I was a witness to," Rossi added smugly. It was so long since he and Hotch had bantered like this, mostly because he'd been miserable about Pip. He wasn't ready to stop just yet. "I had to go to court for that and everything."

Hotch laughed outright. "Yes, your court appearance ruined another attempt at time off didn't it? At least if I remember rightly, and I think we both know I do."

Rossi huffed good-naturedly and folded his arms in mock irritation. "And one of those bodies only landed on my car, it wasn't actually anything to do with me, other than the insurance claim."

Hotch grinned. "My mistake. If I asked you for the Atlanta PD report on that particular death, you wouldn't have any idea where the nearest copy of the file is, would you?"

Rossi grinned back. "What?" he asked, spreading his hands. "It was interesting! I can't help it, I'm nosey."

Hotch chuckled. "True."

"Hey!" cried Rossi. "You're not supposed to agree quite so quickly."

Hotch smirked. "I'll remember that for next time," he commented drily. "Take all the time you need, Dave," he added seriously, confirmation that he had been more worried than he'd let on.

Rossi nodded. "I'm ok, Hotch," he reassured him. "I just need a break from seeing your face across a dead body every day, know what I mean?"

Hotch chuckled again and flapped his hand in Rossi's direction. "Likewise. Go. Go on, before I change my mind," he said with a smile. "Enjoy yourself. Just take a look at the two files I just asked Phillips to leave on your desk before you disappear and forget you work here."

The two files that had materialised on his desk in the short time he'd been with Hotch spawned work needed on three more, which in turn generated a considerable stack of forms to complete under Phillips' heavy supervision. His mailbox filled up over the course of several hours, so of course he had to spend time clearing down his emails as well.

It was late afternoon by the time he could escape. Rossi's final act before closing the door on his office was to throw Pip's pills into the trash bin beside his desk.

A tiny woman stopped the elevator one floor down and joined Rossi for the rest of the journey to the parking lot. She was both older and shorter than him, by some considerable margin. With her spectacles on a chain around her neck and huge purse, she looked every inch the sweet little old lady she appeared to be. However, she exuded such a potent aura of supreme power and authority that Rossi found himself practically _bowing_ her out of the elevator car when the doors opened to the garage.

"Thank you, Agent Rossi," she said as they parted. "Nice to see you. You've lost some weight recently I believe."

Rossi stopped in his tracks. He had. Mostly through stress, although realistically that meant grief; and a bad habit of crashing into bed without eating when he was tired. Which lately, had been all the time. But there was no way this stranger could have known any of that.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" he asked warily. He was usually good with faces, if not always names, and her face _wasn't_ familiar.

The woman shook her head. "No," she replied slowly. "I would remember if we had."

"So how do you know that I've lost weight?"

She smiled at him, the wrinkles just adding to the sense of mischievousness in her reply. "I know more about you than just that, Dave. A lot more."

"You know, it's funny, not many people call me that, and they nearly all work here or are close friends. Yet I have no idea who you are," said Rossi tersely, getting frustrated.

"That is the way it should be, and will remain," she said enigmatically, and turned to leave.

"Now wait just a minute…" started Rossi angrily, just as his cell phone rang. He glanced at it and rejected the call when he didn't recognise the number. If it was important, they'd call back.

When he looked up, the woman had gone.

* * *

Rossi had made his way back to Pip via a stop at his mansion to see his housekeeper and increasingly elderly dog. But her home appeared empty and Rossi became suddenly convinced that it was going to be the moment he realised he'd actually gone completely round the twist. Finally lost it, and had started seeing things. That there was nobody in her apartment because he'd dreamed or imagined the entire experience.

He'd dreamed of Pip coming home before; not as frequently as he used to, admittedly, but the events of that day were different. A waking dream, some kind of psychotic episode, complete with disappearing old ladies. That really should have given him a clue it wasn't real, shouldn't it? People didn't just vanish into thin air; he'd worked enough abduction cases to know that for _sure_.

"You going to stand in the way all day?" asked Pip from behind him. Rossi turned in the doorway, incredibly relieved to see her slowly climbing up the stairs. Rossi clutched at the doorframe as subtly as he was able for reassurance. He wasn't going barmy; she really was home.

"Because if you are, I may just collapse on you," continued Pip as she trudged up the last few steps. "I've not had enough sleep to deal with the suits and now that I've had to, I'm exhausted."

Rossi led the way in, closing the door behind them. "Suits?" he asked as Pip landed tiredly on the sofa. Rossi followed more slowly and sat a respectable distance away. The voice and body might be the same, but the woman sat on the couch with him wasn't his Pip, it was Officer Harker. She still had her armour on and he felt like he was walking on eggshells.

"The bureaucrats. Someone tipped them off that I was back and I got the call." Pip threw him a rueful smile and rolled her eyes. "I thought I'd been so sneaky." She shook her head. "I went to call in my biggest debt owing and found her already on my doorstep, barely an hour after you left this morning. She knows everyone in the business, runs a domestic undercover ops outfit and it turns out we have mutual connections in the Middle East as well as DC."

For some reason, the tiny woman he'd met in the elevator earlier came to Rossi's mind.

Pip huffed and folded her arms. "The couple in Turkey were two of hers. A scruffy-haired blonde and a brunette with an odd birthmark in her eye. Either they really _are_ a couple, or I'm losing my touch, because they seemed really genuine with each other."

She sighed gustily before continuing. "And now, I owe her. _Big time_. Again." She frowned, as if that were a recurring problem. "Her debt to me was paid when she got me out of Turkey. She flew to Washington in the middle of the night to save my neck _and_ get me my job back. Said the least they could do was put my life back together after ripping it apart, considering the information I brought home with me. She fought my corner, and won. I've even got the option of a field posting after proving I've taught myself to shoot left-handed without killing someone other than the person I'm aiming at."

"Strauss agreed to all this?" Rossi didn't really like the sound of all that. It was starting to sound as if she didn't want to change things from the way they were. That she was sticking to the decision she'd made the night she left. There was no way he was about to let that happen.

Pip snorted. "No, this comes down from much, _much_ higher. Put it this way, that little old lady has single-handedly given me back my life and she used one of the minor favours she has in with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs to do it. Everyone below him will simply have to do as they're told, Strauss included. Not only do I have an FBI career to go back to, something I never dared hope for; she's had my termination order, the one that hangs over the head of every disavowed CIA Officer out there, lifted. I literally owe her my life, and that's a debt she'll collect one day."

"So…we'll be colleagues again." Rossi could help feeling a bit disappointed that she'd made such a decision without him, despite the good news about voiding the contract on Pip's life; something he hadn't even considered. However, their positions in the Bureau had always been a major sticking point for her, one way or another. The need for secrecy, to have an excuse for spending time together even when they'd just be close friends, had got in the way more than once.

Regardless of what happened work-wise, Rossi had more pressing concerns. Pip's brisk calmness was what bothered him the most. He sank back on the sofa, much as his heart had sunk through his shoes. He knew exactly what he was going to have to do, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"I've got a few weeks leave to let the battle marks fade and then I'm back running AST," replied Pip. "I don't want the field assignment, but it's good to know I have the option of a weapon that doesn't involve hand-to-hand combat. I've had enough of that recently."

So not only would she be back in the Bureau, she'd be back in the BAU. Just as close, and apparently, just as far away as ever before. It was devastating. For a microscopic fraction of a second, Rossi wished she hadn't come back.

"You don't have to sound quite so pleased," said Pip sarcastically when he didn't respond. "I thought you'd be happy things were going back to the way there were. Or were you hoping they'd replace me?"

"You could never be replaced," growled Rossi in frustration, steeling himself. "Never." Not in the BAU and not in his heart, either.

"Then _what_?"

"You _broke my fucking heart_ and now you're back and acting like everything's normal! _Nothing_ about this is normal!" he cried. Rossi couldn't bear to be seated any longer and took to his feet to start pacing the room.

"What am I supposed to do? To think?" he asked harshly. "Christ, Pip, I thought you were _dead._ How am I supposed to feel about all this? About us? Is there even an "us"? Was there ever going to be? You're acting like nothing happened the night you left, like that conversation didn't...where the fuck do I stand?"

Pip surged to her feet and strode towards him. "I don't know!" she cried angrily, waving her arms to emphasise her point. "I didn't _plan_ it! Any of it! I never wanted… _it wasn't meant to happen!_ "

There were tears in her eyes, but if they were tears of rage or some other emotion, Rossi couldn't tell. That in itself told him how far he had yet to go – he'd always been a good meteorologist of Pip's hurricane-like temperament and at the moment, he still didn't have a clue.

"Which bit?" he spat, digging deeper. "All of it? Your trip abroad, or just the bit about you and I?"

Pip caught her breath in a sob. "I..."

"Because it feels like you've chosen one, and it wasn't me," continued Rossi inexorably. "Three months ago, JJ told me you were dead. _Dead_. Did you ever stop to consider what that might do to me? Ever think that maybe, _just maybe_ , I deserved to know you weren't lying dead in a fucking ditch somewhere being eaten by animals or something?"

"Please, I just…" She turned away as the tears started to fall unchecked. "If this is it, then just go. I understand. I'll find something outside the Bureau, you won't hear from me again. Keep thinking I'm dead, and one day soon, it'll be true." She muttered something else that wasn't meant for his ears, but Rossi caught it anyway. "I'll make sure of it."

Melodrama aside, that she'd welcome a bullet much as he'd done only the previous day gave him hope. She didn't want to go, didn't want to leave him behind. He still had a chance of getting through. Pip started for the bedroom door, but Rossi grabbed her before she'd gone more than two paces and pinned her against his body.

"Oh no you don't," he growled in her ear, "you don't get to avoid me that easily. I want some straight answers for once."

Pip squirmed in his grasp like a thrashing python. "I don't want to hurt you," she hissed. "Let me go!"

"Never," said Rossi shortly. Now that she was back and wanted to stay, he had no intention of _ever_ letting her go.

Pip grabbed two furious fistfuls of his shirt and dropped, pushing off with her feet as she did so. Even though he'd been anticipating it, and had even braced himself against it, the sheer speed of the throw left Rossi flat on his back in her living room for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Pip futilely wiped her tear-streaked face as she straddled his stomach. Rossi just lay there gasping for breath, winded by his landing.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely, although it wasn't immediately clear for what she was apologising. Pip rolled gracefully to her feet and held out her hand to help him up.

"You've changed," Rossi commented as he warily took the offered hand. "Violence to apology used to take you a lot longer."

"A year is a long time, and a lot's happened to me since I left," she said blandly as she pulled him to his feet, more easily than he'd anticipated. Physically, at least, she was stronger than when she'd left. "I just want to forget it all. Forget what I did. Forget all the people…all the people I killed," she whispered. "But I _can't_. At the time, it was necessary, but now I just feel like a…a monster. Like the next UnSub for the BAU to chase down and dispose of."

Pip sighed, a sad despondent sound that tore the wounds in Rossi's heart open anew. She held him at arm's length when he tried to close the distance between them, pushing him away.

"You're better off without me, Dave. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't come back." Pip touched the new mark on her arm. "Maybe things would be simpler if this had killed me instead. But I'm here, and I understand if knowing what I've done is too heavy to bear." The tears started to fall again. "It might be for me," she choked out.

Rossi pulled her against him once more, Pip not resisting this time. "I was angry Pip, but it's because I love you and this year has been hell on me too. I'm not going anywhere. In fact," he added softly, "I plan on being by your side until the end of time."

"How can you say that?" she said. "I can't let you get…it's too much…"

"If you can't carry it alone, then I'll carry you instead," he murmured to her hair. "Regardless of what does or doesn't happen between us, I'm your friend and always will be. I'll help you heal. Every step, together. If you'll let me."

Finally, Pip nodded against him and her arms made their way around his waist. Rossi rested his chin on top of her head and they stood in her living room, holding each other as dust motes danced in the evening sunlight around them. Finally, it felt like she was back. He'd pushed her, and hard. It had been worse than prying through her belongings, worse than knowing she'd been forced to relapse into drug use. But it had paid off, chipping away with the only weapons at his disposal: his words and his heart. He'd finally broken through the stony mask to reveal the real Pip underneath, tender and hurting. Having done that, the hard work could really begin.

* * *

"Is that wise?" asked Rossi, as Pip sat down in her usual corner of the sofa with the whisky after loading a favourite DVD into the player. It was early evening, dinner had been an impromptu pizza, eaten so recently the delivery box was still warm. They'd both caught another couple of hours sleep in front of the tv, and woken up hungry. Pip had swapped her smart clothes for a pair of scruffy jogging bottoms and a t-shirt in a determined effort to slob about, and Rossi had conceded that it was appropriate to unbutton his cuffs and the top few buttons of his shirt to add to the mood of relaxation and ease. Still, he didn't think alcohol was good idea if she was heading towards an opiate crash.

"Probably not, but I know what you're about to do." Pip was back to prickly after being quiet and a bit withdrawn after he'd pried open her defences earlier.

"No, you don't." Rossi reached over and plucked the bottle from her hand. "You're not the only one who's changed in the year you've been away. I'm not going to interrogate you, or make you relive it. I'm not going to mention the other thing either. I've grown a patient streak, would you believe." The bottle got stowed safely down his side of the sofa.

"Patience? You?" scoffed Pip, the familiar teasing glint in her eye making a welcome appearance. It had been a long time since Rossi had seen it, and was glad for its return. "I find that hard to believe," she added.

"It's true." Rossi smiled. "I waited for you," he said warmly. "For far longer than just the year you were away. After that, anything else is easy. I'll wait for you to talk, on either subject," he added significantly, "until you want to, or I have to, like earlier."

Pip flushed a little. "That's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"It's about time then."

Reassured, Pip leaned up against him and started the film, happy to just enjoy his company like they used to.


	3. The Prodigal…What? Part 1

_The Prodigal…What? Part 1_

 _ **I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear - Nelson Mandela**_

It was late evening when Pip disturbed Rossi from his focus on the fearsome battle raging on the tv screen. Pip was fidgeting about next to him, and it was incredibly distracting. She'd dragged the blanket down from the back of the sofa an hour or so previously and was wriggling around underneath it like an overexcited ferret.

"Any chance you could sit still?" he asked as her elbow slammed into his side. He paused the DVD, halting an orc in mid-snarl.

"Sorry. Feels like my skin is crawling," muttered Pip, making an effort to settle down again.

He'd been expecting something like that to happen. Three days wasn't enough to go through serious withdrawal, but it was no wonder she was fidgety. Rossi pushed the blanket down and started to rub her arms in a soothing, gentle motion. Pip sighed happily and relaxed into him.

The gentle rasp of his roughened palms against her soft skin was the only sound for several minutes, the film forgotten.

"Don't feel you have to restrict yourself to my arms," said Pip softly, raising her eyes to his.

Rossi looked down at her nestled against him, recognising the look in her eyes with mounting dismay. "I won't be a distraction, I've told you that before."

"What if I told you that's not why?" asked Pip, shifting to face him a little more without impeding the progress of his hands. "What if I told you it's not the drugs that mean I can't keep still? It's because the look on your face when you told me you loved me was what kept me alive this past year. Knowing I had that to come back to, was _why_ I came back. Otherwise I probably would have just given up - accepted I was stranded and died out there."

She'd come back for _him_. Rossi's heart thudded, suddenly flooding his body with heat; most of which pooled below the waist.

Pip's hand ventured under his shirt and Rossi groaned as she ran her fingernails lightly down his chest. "It was why the one I phoned was _you_ , not anybody else. You said you'd wait for me to talk. This is me talking. Contrary to expectations, I'm alive and I'm not wasting any more of our time. I want this, I want you, and I know you want me too. Why not see where that takes us?"

Pip punctuated her question with a gentle pinch to his left nipple and Rossi's eyes rolled back. He'd always loved that, but damned if he could work out how she'd known. The one time they'd ended up in bed together, it had been far too rushed for that kind of exploration.

"Harder," he muttered and groaned again when she did so. One of his hands slid sideways, fondling a breast through the loose t shirt she wore. At some point unknown, she'd removed her bra and Rossi could feel her nipple like a hot pebble under his hand. Pip's hand moved too, giving the right side the same treatment the left had received. Rossi hauled her up and over, leaving her straddling his lap. He couldn't remember ever being quite so unbelievably turned on in such a short space of time. She'd barely touched him and already, he _ached_ for her.

"You planned this," he said accusingly, his hands drawing back as he realised Pip had shed her jogging bottoms and had nothing on apart from the t-shirt. At least that explained the wriggling about under the blanket.

"I hoped," she said softly, unbuckling his belt and sliding it free. She leaned forward to kiss him, grinding herself against the length of what felt like hot granite Rossi had acquired in his pants. The kiss was fierce and wet and needy, and Rossi responded in kind. Air was unimportant for a moment, especially once Pip wound her hands into his hair and again made stimulating use of her fingernails.

Breaking the kiss to gasp for air, Rossi shifted forward on the sofa. Pip got the idea immediately, looping her arms around his neck. Grabbing a firm handful of her ass in each hand, he stood up, still holding her. Pip reacted by winding her legs around his waist and gripping him tightly. Rossi had always wondered what that would feel like, and now he knew, and he wanted more. A lot more. He started for the bedroom, throbbing with need as Pip's moisture soaked through the thin layers of material separating them.

Halfway there as they passed the kitchen, Pip undulated against him, seeking more friction. Rossi faltered in his steps as she rubbed herself up and down against him.

"God, Pip, you do that again, I won't make it as far as the bedroom," he muttered.

Pip just smiled wickedly and deliberately repeated the motion. Rossi did an abrupt ninety degree turn and braced her against the wall, yanking down his pants and boxers with one hand. He thrust upwards, burying himself to the hilt in a single swift movement that made her moan beautifully. It was such a cliché, but it was a relief, like he was dying of thirst and she was a source of sweet water. He could feel every heated contour of her around him and it felt like home.

"Oh, yeah," he growled in her ear, voice roughened with desire. "That's where I _belong_."

"Yeees," moaned Pip, drawing the word out long and sensually, tightening the grip her muscular legs had on his waist.

"You want me?" he asked fiercely, punctuating the question with another sharp thrust of his hips that made her cry out. "You got me."

The rhythm he set was punishing. Fast and hard, Rossi simply drove her pleasure with the force of his own. There was no finesse, no words. Just pure lust in its most unadulterated form; primal and savage. The apartment echoed with their mutual grunts and snarls, the sound of flesh slapping forcefully against flesh. They reached breaking point almost at the same time, biting and clawing at each other as they did so. Rossi growled out his completion into her shoulder, the sound muffled by his teeth clamped onto the sensitive skin at her neck. For a full minute, the only sound was a combined panting for breath as their lungs heaved with exertion.

Pip winced as Rossi set her back down on her feet, and the warm afterglow he'd been basking in evaporated in an instant, like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. She still carried multiple scrapes and bruises from her ordeal, and now it seemed he'd given her some more.

She deserved better. Rossi cursed himself for being so stupid. What _had_ he been thinking? Truth be told, he hadn't been, not really. Not since she'd started to run her hands over him, and all remaining thought processes had short-circuited and given up when she'd tweaked his nipple. To finally have her, and to do it up against a wall? It should have been special - gentle and loving, with the time they'd never taken to explore each other. Not half-dressed in the hallway, rutting like a couple of teenagers.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down and realising his pants were still at half-mast. He pulled them up with an embarrassed shrug of his hips and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. "That should have been…I wanted to...mmmpf!"

Pip cut him off with a kiss. "That was amazing," she reassured him.

"But I hurt you," he disputed, still feeling horribly guilty.

Pip smiled, eyes still heavy-lidded with arousal. "I've probably got a few more bruises, it's true," she agreed, and pressed another kiss to his lips, one passionate enough that it threatened to get him worked up all over again. "But I'm going to smile whenever I remember how I got them." She ran her hand up under his shirt and over his back, her smile deepening when he hissed as she passed over a sore spot. "I gave you a few marks of your own too, y'know."

She moved past him, the sensation of her hand trailing down his back ending with a firm pinch on his ass. "I'm going in the shower…care to join me?"

The shower took considerably longer than expected; the opportunity to run their hands over each other in the water proving too great a temptation to resist. So was everything that happened after that, when lips and hands were no longer enough. Even so, they fell into bed still damp, unable to wait even the few moments it would have taken to dry themselves off.

Third time, it was slower; the pressing urgency of their earlier couplings having released the pent-up tension between them.

"This means you're mine now," whispered Rossi possessively in Pip's ear as he rocked gently against her.

Pip reached up to grab his shoulders and arched her back, rolling them over. "No," she said firmly, stilling their movements and leaning forward to pin him down. "It means you are _mine_."

She tightened her pelvic floor, clamping down around him so tight Rossi's eyes rolled back and he muttered a curse under his breath. "You're killing me, woman," he groaned.

"But what a way to go," she purred, and began to move her hips against his.

 _That_ he could definitely agree with. Watching Pip take her pleasure from him, using his body to tease and drive herself higher, was an incredibly erotic experience. She was a vision above him, a goddess. _His_ goddess, and he would be a loyal acolyte, for the rest of his days, just please…don't stop doing that…oh please don't stop…My Lady…oh my love, please…don't ever stop…

* * *

True consciousness didn't return until early hours of the morning. Rossi had been aware enough after their last round to cover the two of them with the duvet and cuddle up to Pip before sleep took him, but that was about it. It took a moment to realise that the reason he was awake, was because he was alone.

Rossi had woken up alone in Pip's bed plenty of times over the past year, but this time was different, because she _should_ be there. The questing hand that had alerted him in his sleep that she was gone, found her pillow. Cold. So was the whole of her side of the bed.

As was the whole apartment, as Rossi found out to his displeasure when he rolled out of the duvet and his feet made contact with the chilly floor. He'd not spent much time at her place over the last few months, and had turned the heating down to a minimum that would stop the pipes bursting when the mercury dipped below freezing. Grumbling a selection of choice curses, he fumbled for some clothes. Spring, it might be. Warm, it was most definitely _not_.

Dressed in the first handful of clothes he could find on his side of the closet, Rossi ventured down the hall, drawn by the smell of coffee. The familiar and much-missed aroma of Pip's morning blend filled the air. Flickering light and the muted sounds of a sword battle in the living room caught his attention as he got closer to the source of the smell. Ignoring the enticing fragrance from the kitchen, Rossi didn't stop and continued past, heading instead for the living room.

Wrapped in the blanket and clutching a steaming mug, Pip was sat on the sofa watching the DVD they'd paused so many hours previously. Her knuckles were still bruised and sore, but she held the mug with no evidence of discomfort. He'd seen, and kissed or licked or stroked, or all three, each and every one of the bruises and scrapes that covered her body. None of them were serious, or needed any other treatment than a couple of weeks recuperation. Physically, at least, she was fine. Everything else, however, would remain to be seen.

"You ok?" he asked, leaning casually against the corner of the wall next to the tv.

Pip shrugged, as if to deflect the question. "Sorry, did I wake you?" she asked apologetically. "I thought you were out for the count. I closed the door and kept the volume down…"

"No, you didn't," Rossi reassured her. "I woke up because you weren't there. After a year of that, I noticed when you were supposed to be."

Pip paused the film. "You stayed here while I was away?"

"Quite a lot," he admitted. "Sorry. I hope you don't mind." It seemed like an incredibly stupid thing to say given their previous closeness, and especially considering what they'd done earlier; but Rossi couldn't help himself. It was an ingrained response; his mother had raised a son with manners after all.

Pip gave him a bemused look that showed she had followed his thoughts, probably word for word and to the letter. "Of course not," she said with a laugh. "I did wonder when the coffee mugs weren't where I'd left them and everything looked neater than it did before." She laughed again. "You do realise you've rearranged my cupboards to mirror your own? OCD at its finest."

Pip toasted him carelessly with her mug, a few drops spilling over the rim. "Speaking of coffee, pot's fresh if you want one," she said cheerfully.

As he was up, he definitely wanted one. He had since the first waft when he'd opened the bedroom door. Pip had been shopping at some unknown point the day before and he recognised the smell of her coffee. Pip's morning blend was unique, and he'd never managed to work out where she got it from. Not that he hadn't tried, he'd expended a fair amount of time and energy over the previous three years hunting for it. It had turned into a game fairly early on, Pip disguising packets within packets to throw him off the scent. He'd missed her coffee. Not as much as he'd missed _her_ , but there had been times in the early morning on the jet that it had been a close-run thing.

More importantly however, that much good humour in the middle of the night wasn't natural; the clock on the wall told him it was barely 2am. It was a time of day he'd seen a lot recently one way or another, and he'd need some caffeine before he could get to the bottom of that artificial chirpiness.

" _Are_ you ok?" He repeated his question once he'd sat on the sofa next to her, mug in hand. He'd only had two mouthfuls, but he could feel her coffee doing him good already, the tiredness and chill being chased away with alacrity.

Pip shrugged again, giving him the same non-answer as before, her gaze fixed on the table where her feet casually rested.

"Define "ok" after the year I've had," she said eventually. "I've definitely been better, put it that way."

The film played on unheeded, a young hobbit picking up his friend and starting to carry him up a fiery mountain.

"I woke up, and for several seconds, I didn't know where I was," said Pip after a few moments silence. "I was out of bed and reaching for a knife I wasn't wearing before I remembered I don't have to do that every time I wake up any more. Scared the _shit_ outa me." She shrugged again. "I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep after that, so I snuck out here. I didn't want to disturb you."

"You should have done," Rossi disagreed. "I wouldn't have minded."

"I know." Pip bit her lip thoughtfully. "I thought about it," she said softly, "but you looked so peaceful. I get the feeling that a decent night's sleep has been as rare for you as it has for me. Seemed like a shame to waste that."

Rossi put his coffee down angrily, spilling some in the process. He'd spotted the deception immediately and he wasn't going to let her get away with it. What she said hadn't been untrue, but it wasn't the reason she'd let him sleep.

"Don't lie to me," he said firmly. "Not now, Pip," he added roughly, as she opened her mouth to object. "Don't make it any worse by trying to deny it, we both know better. I'm going to say this, and you're going to let me, because it's important." He took her free hand in both of his and squeezed gently to emphasise his point.

He waited until she reluctantly nodded her acceptance before he went on. "I added up everything you ever told me," he said slowly. "I had a whole year to do it. All the little details, the little hints. All the evasions and misdirections, the things you told me outright under cover of something else, the things you let slip and thought I hadn't picked up on. I put it together with everything you told me the night you left. I realised that while you've never told me the _whole_ story, about anything I don't think; I think there was only one time you actually flat-out lied to me. The night I came home from San Francisco after the joint case with Cooper." He paused to let his words sink in, waiting for her to realise what he was talking about. The discussion about how many lives she'd taken.

"And you did it again just now," he went on, as her quick shift of her shoulders told him she knew exactly the conversation he was referring to. "Both times, it's been because in your mind, you're protecting me from something about you, something that you think I shouldn't know, or something you think I'd think less of you for. Now listen up, because this is the important bit I think you keep missing: if we're in this," he lifted their joined hands, "then we're in this _together_."

He kept hold of her with one hand and picked up his coffee again with the other. "So," he said in an easy tone, that despite its casualness, left no room for argument. "What was the real reason you didn't wake me up, when really, you should have done?"

There was an epic battle going on in her mind, far more hard-fought than the clash between men and the minions of darkness on screen. Even in the poor light, Rossi could see it unfold in the thousands of micro-expressions flickering across her face. Either he'd got better at reading her, or her guard was down far enough that she didn't realise just how open she was to him. As if she'd picked up his thoughts, her expression flattened, the defensive walls slamming into place so that very little showed.

Pip leaned forward, shrugging off the blanket and trying to forcibly remove her hand from Rossi's grasp when he resisted the motion. She'd made a decision of some sort; he could still see enough over the battlements to know that. He just wasn't happy about letting go of her to hear it. The glare she gave him was more like the Pip he remembered, and Rossi reluctantly released her hand.

She put down her coffee and flexed her fingers as if testing their movement. Apparently satisfied, Pip picked up the curved blade laying on the table and unsheathed it, tossing the cover onto the sofa between them. The vicious-looking knife had remained where he'd put it since he'd found it in her bag the first night she'd returned. The two she normally wore strapped across her body were safely stowed in the top drawer of her bedside table – their usual home if he was there with her. In the half-light, the new addition looked even more deadly than before.

Expertly, Pip quickly shifted the blade from hand to hand under Rossi's wary eye. He edged subtly away from her and put down his half-drunk coffee, unsure quite where the display was leading. He said nothing, not wishing to disturb her concentration.

Having apparently warmed up, Pip accelerated, the blade flickering from side to side, across and around her hands in an impressive dance of skill and speed. Round and round it went, faster and faster, over and under and seemingly _through_ her hands, the weapon by then just a blur. Mesmerised, it looked to Rossi's eyes like she was weaving with a skein of liquid metal. With a final flourish, Pip looped it sharply upwards. The serrations on the blade flashed with reflected light from the tv as it arced gracefully towards the rafters, spinning as it did so. Having released it, Pip grabbed his hand and held it tightly in both of hers around the sheath, fixing them in place in mid-air.

"Pip, what…" started Rossi uneasily, glancing down at their hands joined around the decorated scabbard.

"Wait." Pip's gaze met his and compelled him to keep eye contact with her.

Unable to help himself, Rossi flinched as the blade slammed home a moment later, dropping hard into the stiffened leather right in his eye-line; the hilt interrupting his view of Pip's face. The blade was curved and so was the sheath, and Pip hadn't been looking at the knife as it completed its downward arc just at the right angle to drop neatly inside.

"I could have killed you," said Pip softly, releasing her iron grip around his hand and tossing the knife onto the table with a clatter that made him wince.

The film soundtrack quieted as a tortured unwilling hero battled with his demons on a precipice, and her words seemed to fall like boulders into the lull.

"That little show?" She shrugged dismissively. "It's just a trick, and I've had plenty of time to practice. My skill with a knife in my hand…if I'd had one this morning…" Pip shook her head. "I could have killed you," she repeated. "It's beyond instinct, I think it's part of who I am now, whether I like it or not. My own death doesn't bother me, but yours does. Especially if there's a chance it could come at my hands."

"You wouldn't have hurt me…" started Rossi.

"You don't know that!" she cried, cutting him off. "Waking up with teeth bared and knife at the ready, acting on an impulse I have no control over…"

"Like you did the night you came home?"

"W-what?" Even in the uncertain and changeable light level from the TV, Rossi could see Pip go pale. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a shocked whisper.

Rossi roughly yanked off the jumper he'd found in the closet, shivering a little as his skin came in contact with the frigid air of the apartment.

"Turn on the light," he ordered. Pip hesitated, then did as he asked. "Here and here," he said as she sat back down, pointing to the bruises she'd left on him. They were minor: an indistinct pattern from the tread of her boot over his right wrist and a roughly circular mark in the middle of his left bicep where her thumb had dug in. There was a crescent mark on one edge of it where her thumbnail had just barely broken the skin.

"And here," he added, tilting his head up so she could see the scratch on his neck.

Pip caressed the cut with trembling fingers. "Oh no, no no no…What did I do? I don't remember this! I remember calling your cell and then I remember you holding me, telling me I was safe. Dave, tell me, please… _what did I do in between?_ " she pleaded desperately.

"You threw me on my back, pinned me down and held a knife to my throat." He didn't mention the foot in his groin. As uncomfortable as it had been at the time, she'd done no damage there.

Pip's eyes widened in horror. " _No_ ," she breathed, recoiling from him, desperately shaking her head in negation. "Oh, no no _no_. Dave, I am so, _so_ sorry." She pulled back even further, withdrawing as far as the sofa would allow. "Oh…this is _exactly_ what I'm talking about. I didn't know I'd done it before." She swallowed heavily. "There's no use is there? This is it. The end. It's over. I… _we_ can't risk it. If I can't even trust _myself_ not to kill you in my sleep, how can _you_ possibly trust me not to?"

Rossi tried to scoot closer, but Pip scrambled off the sofa before Rossi could get to her, evading him with ease. He didn't let her get away, standing quickly and following as she backed away from him.

Pip held her arms out, trying to ward him off. "No, please…I don't…I'm sorry…"

"Shush," murmured Rossi in her ear, having finally caught her and tucked her into his arms where she belonged. "Ssh, it's ok. No harm done, I'm fine. You didn't hurt me, Pip."

"I nearly _killed_ you!"

"But you didn't," he insisted. "You stopped. Even before I spoke to you, you'd stopped. You _knew_ it was me. If it happens again, I trust you to stop again. I'm not scared of you, _bella_ , or of your reactions. I don't need your apology. I need you to trust my judgement of you."

Pip drew back a little. Not enough to leave the circle of his arms, but enough to look up and meet his eye. "That sounds like a horribly circular piece of logic," she said flatly. "Because I don't trust myself, I should trust _you_ , because you trust _me_. Am I the only one that sees the flaw in that?"

"You're the only one here who thinks you're a threat to my safety," disputed Rossi. He was getting through; he could see it. Slowly. "I know better. You've _never_ hurt me, which is more than could be said if our roles were reversed."

He'd done things over the years of their friendship that warranted far more than a minor cut and a couple of insignificant bruises. He'd come home from _dog walking_ with worse injuries.

Rossi pulled her back against him, his forehead touching hers. "I love you, and I trust you. We'll work the rest out as we go along."

He shivered again, gooseflesh rising on his arms. "If I let go of you long enough to put my jumper on, are you going to try and run away again?" he asked with a teasing smile. "I'd just like to know, because y'know, wherever you hide, I _will_ find you. I just want to know if I can go find some warmer pants too, while I've got the opportunity."

Pip choked out a watery laugh and shook her head jerkily, dislodging the tears in her eyes. "I won't go anywhere." she sniffed and smiled a little. "Trust me."

In the background, the Tower fell, ridding the lands of darkness.

Another battle won.


	4. The Prodigal What? Part 2

_The Prodigal…What? Part 2_

 _ **These moments of escape are not to be despised. They come too seldom - Virginia Woolf**_

Rossi watched as Pip pottered around the living room, tidying up the piles of her kit he'd left out. Pip doing housework of any kind was an unusual enough event that it was worth observing, if just for its novelty value.

The clothes he'd washed went straight in the bin – none of them had survived her year away. Much of her stuff got simply bundled up and shoved in the bottom of the closet. Out of sight, out of mind was the order of the day, it seemed. The condoms raised an amused smirk from both of them – they'd never bothered with them, they knew they were both clean and it wasn't like he could get her pregnant. They got thrown in a drawer with a shrug. They had a variety of potential uses for survival when out in the field as she had been, but were of little use to either of them now she was home. The new whetstone went in the kitchen, the contents of the wash kit either binned or tucked away in the bathroom. The .22 casing stayed on the table, unlike the solitary 9mm round, which was nowhere to be seen, something Rossi hadn't noticed until that point.

With one last thing left to deal with, Pip had halted in the middle of the room, weighing the curved knife in her hands as if deciding what to do with it.

"Where did you get that?" asked Rossi when she didn't move.

Pip jerked, disturbed from her contemplation of the blade. She sat down next to him and shoved the knife deep under the sofa, as if to bury it out of reach. "Spoils of conquest," she muttered. "He didn't need it anymore and it was expected of me to take it as a trophy."

"The paedophile?"

Pip nodded and snuggled into him. "I don't really want to talk about it. Is that ok?"

Rossi lifted his arm so she could get closer. "Of course. You ought to at some point I think, but it doesn't have to be now."

The film she'd resumed had ended hours before, and dawn was finally starting to think about making an appearance. The heating was on, and the apartment was starting to feel more like a home and less like a walk-in freezer. Despite all that, Pip shivered against him.

"How long can you stay?" she asked. "I mean, I'm guessing you've got to go to work today, but…"

"I've taken some leave," interrupted Rossi, who'd forgotten to tell her that. "I'm not going anywhere. In fact," he added as the idea that had occurred to him the previous afternoon resurfaced. An idea that would kill two birds with one stone. "How about you and I take a little trip? You've never seen my cabin, fancy a couple of weeks or so in Little Creek with just me and my dog for company?"

Pip jumped off the sofa like she'd been fired from a rocket. "How soon can we get going?"

* * *

"Hello Hotch."

Rossi watched as Pip and Mudgie romped in the long grass outside the cabin, amid much laughter and playful yips and barks. Mudgie's muzzle was by then almost completely grey, yet his old dog had reclaimed some of his puppyhood in their game and was frolicking happily in the overgrown garden with her. His heart had sunk when his cell rang – he knew who it was without looking. Either Hotch with a case, and it was _not_ the time for Hotch to cancel his leave; or Hotch had received news of her return.

"Where are you?" asked Hotch sharply. "I'm at her house with your car, but you're not here, and neither's she."

So, Hotch wasn't calling about a case. He was also pissed, and knew Rossi well enough to look for them at Pip's place first, rather than his own house. Rossi allowed himself a moment's congratulation. He'd been right about getting out of her apartment. Even after months of poor treatment and too much alcohol, the braincells still worked.

They'd packed up and driven out to the cabin in her truck. Leon had knocked on her door just as they were about to leave, intent on returning her keys having heard movement upstairs. Rossi had loaned him the vehicle on and off while she'd been away, continuing an arrangement Pip had always had with the young man.

Pip had been so pleased to see her truck, cooing and murmuring to it as she ran her hand over the shiny chrome. Leon had taken good care of it as always, and in the circumstances, Rossi had suggested she drive to reacquaint herself with her beloved pickup. He'd forgotten what it was like to be a passenger when she was driving, but the journey out to the cabin had been practically sedate compared to her previous style. She still took risks he wouldn't have done, but there was less sense of "getaway driver" about her manner. Mudgie had enjoyed himself immensely, perched on the back seat with his nose out of the window the entire way.

"We're at the cabin," Rossi replied. "If you're calling to drag me back in for a case, I retire," he added lightly.

"You know _damn_ well I'm not," said Hotch sternly. "Don't bullshit me around Dave, we've known each other far too long for that. I wanted to talk to you both face-to-face and I'm starting to think you anticipated that."

"You're talking to me now, Aaron," said Rossi evenly. "What's on your mind?"

He _had_ anticipated it, but far later in the game than Hotch assumed. He should have packed them up and come out to the cabin the previous evening, like he'd originally intended. Pip had distracted him, one way or another, but that meant that they'd only just kept ahead of Hotch. They were lucky it had taken more than just yesterday afternoon for the news to filter down to him; it was barely eight in the morning and they'd only arrived twenty minutes ago. Pip's crisis of self-doubt in the early hours had done them a favour in the end.

He'd done it for all the right reasons, and would do it all again, but Rossi had essentially lied to his supervisor for a whole year. Hotch obviously wasn't going to be impressed to find that out. Add to that the way Pip had bullied her way back into the FBI, and Hotch turning up unannounced looking for answers wasn't a huge deductive leap. Rossi hadn't been sure he could trust himself to justify his actions to his friend's face without sharing more than he ought to, which is where the idea to come out the cabin had come from in the first place. Having the initial discussion over the phone was easier, and would let them say to each other what they needed to, without either losing their temper.

"You could have mentioned Harker wanted her job back," said Hotch shortly.

"She didn't tell me until after I'd seen you yesterday," Rossi replied, admitting in that sentence that he'd known she was back and not said anything. "Is there a problem?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know, Dave, you tell me," replied Hotch, with a mocking edge to his tone. "You obviously know all about it but I just got broadsided with this at some ungodly hour of the morning. I woke up to find Strauss hammering on my door, _not_ the way I wanted to start my day, believe me; in order to tell me something I would have preferred to hear from _you_. She's not happy, and to be honest, neither am I."

"No change there, then," muttered Rossi uncharitably under his breath. "Pip leapt at the chance to come back before I even knew it was a possibility," he said for Hotch's ears.

Just like she'd leapt at the chance of hiding away from the world at his cabin for a while. A chance to explore what was going on between them without real life getting in their way.

"I take it you two are…" asked Hotch resignedly when Rossi didn't offer any further information.

"Oh, we are now. Very much so," said Rossi smugly. "Many times over." He grinned at the choked noises of embarrassment Hotch was making, and decided to push his luck. "I haven't been this horny since I was a teenager," he added lewdly.

"Dave!" cried Hotch indignantly. "Jeez, stop...please, that's far more information than I needed."

Hotch sighed despondently, but Rossi could hear the levity in that sigh. A vast improvement on the hurt and disappointment so evident before.

"A simple "yes" would have been sufficient," scolded Hotch. "You realise I'm now scarred with those mental images for life."

Rossi chuckled, the smile remaining as Hotch continued.

"I've told you already my opinion of the two of you; that's not an issue here, it never was. Whatever you were before didn't affect the team, so I'm not going to get involved now. Strauss doesn't know and if it's what you both want, that's the way it will remain. She won't hear of it from me. I don't care, unless you hurt her, in which case you're on your own."

"Thank you, Aaron." That was one hurdle cleared, at least.

Hotch took a deep breath. "However, much as I hate to publicly admit that I agree with that woman on anything; _our_ objections stem from the fact that we have no record of what Harker was doing during the year she was at the Pentagon. Nothing. Not even a single sheet of paper with her name on, redacted into insensibility and uselessness. She was supposed to be JJ's admin support, and I've already got _JJ's_ records, heavily edited and incomprehensible as they are. It's like Harker was never there." Hotch paused. "There's no question she's qualified for the AST job having done it for years, but the wording on this…" Rossi could hear Hotch furiously rattling a piece of paper at the phone as if hoping Rossi could read it. "These reinstatement papers are more like _orders,_ and from a long, _long_ way up. What the _hell_ was she doing there?"

Rossi's smile had long faded. There had been no provision made, no alterations to official records made to explain her absence. He was starting to think Pip wasn't supposed to have made it back at all, and he wondered what it was she wasn't telling him. There was always _something_. "Her job," he replied shortly, already feeling the familiar frustration that came with trying to untangle the complicated woman currently rolling on the grass playing tug-a-war with his dog.

"Dave, do you know something?" Hotch asked seriously. "Did you know all along? Something you shouldn't, something that you still can't tell me?"

 _That_ was the question, the one Rossi had been waiting for. He was incredibly grateful to Hotch for just _asking_ , instead of throwing it as an accusation; something his long-time friend had every right to do in the circumstances, if he so wished. In the garden, Pip stood, brushing herself off. Mudgie twined himself around her legs, ignored for the moment. She'd caught Rossi's body language in her peripheral vision and was now watching him closely.

Rossi gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and took the plunge. "Yes."

"She wasn't at the Pentagon with JJ, was she?" asked Hotch slowly, after a moment's pause.

"No."

"If I ask you anything else, will you tell me?"

"No." There was another pause while Hotch considered that. "Sorry," added Rossi into that silence. Although given the same choices again, he wouldn't change a damn thing and he was pretty sure Hotch already knew that.

Hotch snorted his understanding of the sentiment perfectly. "I'm sure." He cleared his throat, and changed the subject, calling a truce. "Is she up to it?" he asked. "Don't misunderstand, it's happening regardless, it's clear this is non-negotiable," he added quickly.

"She's one of us, Hotch. She _belongs_ in the BAU." Of that, Rossi had no doubt.

"That's as maybe, Dave, but I need to know whether she's _able_ to come back."

Pip had resumed her game with Mudgie, trusting him to deal with whatever it was that him all tensed up. Trusting him to tell her later. That in itself, was all the reassurance Rossi needed to be able to reply completely honestly.

"She will be."

* * *

Pip hadn't asked him what the phone call was all about, but the question had been clear on her face as soon as Rossi stepped outside.

"That was Hotch."

Pip nodded. "I figured. I ought to have told him myself I was coming back, but H…my friend advised to let it feed down from above." She shrugged. "She'd fixed everything else, I figured I'd take that bit of free advice, considering how rarely she does anything for free."

The identity of Pip's friend was something Rossi thought he might know, in general sort of terms, at least. The woman was well-known, in urban legends whispered amongst law enforcement and denied in the halls of power. She'd been everywhere, met everyone, knew everybody. But none of those myths had a name, just a series of aliases, and none of the stories explained who she actually was.

Pip sighed and leaned into him. "Is he furious? There's a glaring void in my résumé, one that you obviously know more about than you really ought to. A gap that no amount of righteous indignation on his part will fill. He's been herded into a corner, being ordered to take me back. I know how much he hates having no options."

"He's not too happy, but the worst has passed," said Rossi with a reassuring smile. "I told him you'd be ready, and you will be. Everything else, including everything I kept from him, he'll just have to learn to accept. He knows I wouldn't have changed a thing."

Pip considered him. "I was right about you," she said cryptically.

"Oh? How so?" asked Rossi curiously.

"I knew you'd understand," replied Pip. "Earlier, you asked me to trust you. I agreed, because I've already trusted you with my life. I told you far more than I ever should have, the night I left. The op was so highly classified and compartmented, one wrong word from you could probably still have me terminated for compromising it. If I trust you with my life, then the least I could do is return the favour."

Frustrated at being ignored once more, Mudgie reared up arthritically on his hind legs, planting a sloppy dog-kiss on her face and a matching pair of muddy paw-prints on her chest. Pip laughed and theatrically fell over, much to Mudgie's excitement. He pranced gleefully around her, barking happily as if he'd just achieved something worthy of note.

"You playing, Dave?" asked Pip mischievously, and hooked a leg around his ankle before he had a chance to reply. Rossi fell half on her and half on a pile of last fall's leaves. Pip laughed and they tumbled over and over together on the ground, laughing and mock-wrestling. Every now and then, one of them would let the other win and let the victor steal a kiss.

Covered in leaf litter and panting for breath, they ended up laying on the ground side by side, holding hands and looking up at the morning sky. Mudgie joined in, draping himself across the both of them with a huge doggy grin on his face.


	5. Home

_A/n: I took a bit of break over the holiday season, just to catch up on some sleep and make some real progress on Assassin's Creed Odyssey. I hope you all had just as enjoyable time as I did. Double posting today, just because I love you all. Consider it a (somewhat belated) festive gift. Roll on 2019!_

* * *

 _Home_

 _ **Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you - Lao Tzu**_

They spent three weeks at the cabin. There had been dark moments among the bright; chief among which had been a complete re-run of the conversation they'd had in the early hours of the morning the day they'd driven out there. Precipitated by Pip throwing herself out of bed with alarm when she awoke with her hands reaching for his throat, it essentially followed the same course.

That battle fought and won once more, Rossi did what he swore he'd never do, and used sex to distract her. He justified it in his mind that he was proving to Pip how much he still wanted her, despite the aborted attempt at strangulation. It sounded far worse that it really was; he'd been awake from the moment she'd moved and hadn't been worried. She barely got near him before she came around, and hadn't even got close to doing any harm. As he'd known she wouldn't.

She couldn't. No matter how half-asleep or insensible she was, Pip was incapable of hurting him. Otherwise, he'd be dead already. If she was going to do it, she would have done it the first time - when she was drugged up and almost comatose with exhaustion, running purely on instinct and adrenaline.

There had been plenty of bright among the dark, and more often as the days went on. They'd laughed until they cried, and cried until they laughed. Rossi now knew more about her year away than he really wanted to, but it had helped Pip to tell him, so he'd listened. She didn't tell him everything, but he'd expected that. He got edited anecdotes rather than an ordered accounting of her time in the Middle East; some were gruesome and some were light-hearted, but there was no sense of time or true depth to the characters in her tales.

In return, he'd told Pip about the year she'd missed in the BAU, including Emily's purported death. That had solved a mystery for her, learning about what happened to Emily. Pip had her answer. Rossi _still_ wasn't sure what the question had been.

They'd had a long and frank discussion about him, too. About the moment he'd stared down the barrel of a gun and embraced it, and what had led up to it: the drinking and the insomnia and the depression, because that's what it had really been, if he was honest. Pip had been his outlet for long enough that without her, he'd bottled everything up; one candlelit evening, it had all just poured forth in an epic flood with no breaks or pauses between.

The Butcher, the one that had got away and finally been caught by recreating his horrific final crime over and over again. How he'd managed to start the book he'd wanted to write for over a year once they'd solved it.

Seaver, the girl he'd pulled from the Academy for the case in New Mexico, thinking her perspective would be useful. It had been, but her recent attentions had made him wish he hadn't done it.

The teenaged serial killer, and stunned look on everyone's face when he'd known who Nicco Bellic was. The anguish that followed because he couldn't tell them how he knew, about the woman who'd taught him to play.

Strauss and her attempt to put politics before justice when he and Morgan wanted to arrest a man running for congress. How he'd wished Pip had been there, with her in-depth knowledge of the woman and what made her tick.

Reid's headaches and the death toll in Montana. Emily's fear and withdrawal from them, even before Doyle arrived on the scene.

The guy making _perfume_ from women in LA, hunting women using his cab.

What interviewing Lyle Donaldson in Syracuse had felt like, a man who'd broken his girlfriend's jaw the last time he'd beaten her. A man who felt so similar to what he knew of Damon McGill, that Rossi had to force himself not to reach across and slam the man's face into the table. Repeatedly. How he'd struggled to hold onto his temper the whole time they were looking for Molly Grandin, and had ended up taking some of it out on her father.

The autistic kid in Louisiana, desperately trying to tell them about his parent's kidnapper, if only they'd worked out how to listen sooner. Playing video games with Seaver afterwards, just to feel anything but lonely, and how that evening had started the transformation of her idolisation of him into something else. How he hadn't seen that until it was too late.

How finding bodies with secrets, CWS operatives with secret lives, had reminded him of her. Emily's lack of trust in them, hiding what she knew, protecting them from it as long as she could. Like Pip had done for him. How it had started the snowball rolling with Doyle, and everything that came after.

The notification of her death, and what it had done to him, seeing Emily's picture every day on the wall of fallen heroes. Where he thought Pip should have been, and wasn't.

The tormented mother in Tampa, whose son had entered the world and left it on the same date and the "grief assessments" Hotch had done. He told her how he'd dodged his friend's questions, by talking about how hard he'd always found it to let people in, that he was more married to the team than he had been his wives. While silently knowing that the person he'd let in the furthest was gone, that the so-called assessment was looking at the wrong person in his life.

He'd even told Hotch at the time that he knew it was different, not that Hotch had known what he meant. He'd had no intention of telling Hotch that he knew Emily was alive, because doing so would ask questions about _how_ he knew. Evading Emily's name, so that what he said wasn't about her, for all that it might sound like it. Raising a glass to Emily and Hayley, and mentally adding Pip's name to the list.

Standing on that beach listening to Derek get the phone call he always got in those situations. Hope could be crippling, as Morgan's aunt knew all too well. As did he.

And finally, what it had felt like, looking out on the bullpen every day and seeing the space between Phillips and Griffin where Pip should have been, because Phillips had point-blank refused to take over her desk. Always feeling his cursed hot-blooded temper boiling beneath the surface, occasionally unable to prevent it from breaking free like the wild beast it really was.

Much as Pip had done, he felt cleaner for letting it out. Ready to move on. The damage was healing, she was home, and they were together. Nothing else mattered.

They'd been on long walks, tidied the garden, and spent days just admiring the spectacular scenery. She'd watched him fish, having proved hopelessly inept at it herself. He'd cooked for them, sometimes something from their fishing expeditions; firing up the barbecue and grilling his catch, satisfying some kind of prehistoric hunter-gatherer urge to provide for her. They'd spent grey afternoons idling on the sofa by candlelight with a crackling fire and just each other's company. She'd ploughed her way through the working draft of his book, critiquing his grammar along the way. In between, and sometimes even _during_ those endeavours, they'd made wide, varied and intensely pleasurable use of just about every available surface in the cabin, and even a few outside.

At night, they would make love slowly in the huge canopy bed. Regardless of any intimate activities of the day, Rossi made sure their evenings were full of love and tenderness, not focussing so much on the physical gratification as their emotional connection. It was during one of those endlessly sensual evenings that Pip said aloud that she loved him. He'd known already, he could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at him, but hearing her finally utter those words had completely driven him over the edge. He'd had barely been able to make sure she got there before he went off like a 4th July fireworks display.

Finally, they were driving home, or rather, he was. Her truck was a fabulous piece of hardware, he almost regretted loaning it to Leon when he could have been driving it himself while she was away.

Rossi glanced across at Pip asleep in the passenger seat. A faint smile lurked around the edges of her mouth. She wasn't healed, or fixed, or whatever word one could use. She wouldn't pass a psych eval to go back in the field, but that didn't matter because she wasn't going back in the field. As for the standard HL7 to be cleared for Bureau desk work, her mysterious friend had simply waived the requirement. Pip had told him it was because her friend was the one to have originally written it, but that seemed extraordinarily far-fetched, even by her standards.

She wasn't entirely whole, but the past few weeks had been enough for the teasing sarcastic light to make increasingly frequent appearances in her eyes. If the fuse on her temper was a little shorter and the sharp side of her tongue a little more cutting than before, well, that was understandable. With luck, that would fade in time, as her waking reactions were already doing.

With luck, and with love. They had to go to work tomorrow, but they had one last night together. Rossi felt the twitch of anticipation and took one hand off the wheel to awkwardly reach down and re-adjust himself.

"Down boy," he muttered irritably to his crotch. "Can't you at least wait until we get home? No, not you, Mudge," he added as his dog whined from behind him. Rossi raised his eyes to the rear-view mirror to look at Mudgie on the back seat. He'd lounged out and laid his head comfortably on his paws for most of the journey, but was now sat up and looking back at him worriedly.

A firm believer that Mudgie understood every word he said, even if he did ignore most of them, Rossi chuckled. "Not you," he repeated. "Not this time anyway."

Between inappropriate groin and butt-sniffing incidents, a puppyhood fascination with ladies' underwear, noxious dog farts, a fairly serious attempt at chasing a girlfriend's pet cat into oncoming traffic, and several _incredibly_ badly-timed interruptions, Mudgie had made quite the impression on Rossi's love life over the twelve and half years they'd been together.

"I was talking to someone else who's got me into a lot of trouble with women over the years," continued Rossi. "Far more than you ever did, you embarrassing lunatic. _He's_ never run the wrong way up a freeway in hot pursuit of a Persian, but once he's trying to do _all_ the joined-up thinking, I'm usually in trouble."

"Do you always talk about your bits in the third person?" asked Pip unexpectedly from beside him.

Rossi jumped, startled, and the pickup swerved minutely to mirror his movement. He stole a glance towards the passenger side of the cab where Pip was grinning at him, that light he'd missed for so long sparkling for the whole world to see.

Rossi grinned back. "Depends on who's listening. Never know when we might need to deny all knowledge, right Mudge?"

Mudgie happily barked his agreement as Pip giggled.

* * *

Hotch rang later that evening as they were cosied up on his couch under a quilt, arguing happily through a film. Hotch had checked in on them when Rossi's initial two weeks leave were up and easily agreed another week when Rossi told him Pip wasn't ready yet. Physically, she was fine, and two weeks had let them both catch up on a year's worth of bad sleeping habits. Psychologically, Pip hadn't been ready to leave the isolation of his cabin and face the real world. Rossi hadn't been ready to let her out of his sight. Another week had helped them both.

Rossi cursed the phone when it began to ring because it meant he had to put something down. In one hand, he had a rather expensive, and rather enjoyable glass of red wine. The other was down Pip's shirt, gently cupping one breast. It had been for about an hour. It was a form of casual intimacy that Rossi realised had been missing from every single relationship he'd been in before. She was wearing nothing but his pyjama shirt, while he had the bottoms on. Her hand was resting high up on his leg, the other holding the twin to the glass he held. It was a wonderfully domestic scene he could easily get used to.

Deciding that choosing between the wine and the rather wonderful handful he had hold of could be hazardous for his health, Rossi released both to answer the call.

"You're going to regret that," murmured Pip in a teasing sing-song as he shifted to reach for his cell. She flashed him a wicked grin as he paused, and her hand slid further up his thigh to squeeze suggestively.

Rossi looked down at her lounged against him. "Really?" he asked dubiously, fully aware that he was already starting to rise to the occasion.

Her fingernails trailed lightly across the fabric separating them, sending sparks through his nervous system. "Definitely. I've only got you to myself for another few hours and I plan to capitalise on that."

"You wouldn't dare," he disputed, picking up his cell.

Pip leaned forward a little to put her wine down, her hand sliding higher. "Try me."

Rossi answered the call, still sure Pip wouldn't carry out her threat. "Rossi…Hi Hotch." He had hoped the identity of the caller would rein in her more mischievous tendencies, but Pip wasn't going to give up so easily. He missed what Hotch asked him as he tried to stop her and had to shift his focus.

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked, futilely attempting to bat her hands away.

Unfortunately, with Rossi's attention on Hotch, Pip had free rein. With one of his hands holding the phone, he could only capture one of hers at a time. Pip made good use of her advantage, evading his defences easily; stroking and pinching her way down his body. Rossi groaned as she started kissing a path down his exposed chest, her lips following the same path her hand had taken a moment before. His desperate prayer that she would bypass more sensitive areas went unanswered; Rossi had to soundly bite his cheek to prevent a gasp escaping as her hand slid into his tented pyjama bottoms and started stroking firmly.

"Is this a bad time?" asked Hotch uncertainly, no doubt puzzled by the odd noises Rossi was making as he desperately tried to avoid crying out as Pip's tongue got lower and lower.

"You have…oh!" Words failed him for a moment as Pip swallowed him whole. "You have no idea," Rossi managed through gritted teeth as she set to work.

"Is everything ok?"

Everything was wonderful, except that Hotch hadn't taken the hint and Pip was starting to really hit her stride. She was a quick study and three weeks had been plenty enough time for her to learn _exactly_ how he liked it. His toes were curling and his stomach tensing in anticipation already.

"Dave?" Hotch was starting to sound really concerned.

"Can I…oh God." Rossi's head rolled back to rest against the couch. He wasn't going to last much longer at this rate, his remaining coherency was probably measured in seconds, not minutes; and he had yet to get rid of Hotch. "Can I…call you back?"

"I just wanted to make sure she's good to come in tomorrow." There was a pause. "What _are_ you two doing?"

"She'll be there. Goodbye Hotch," gasped Rossi and hung up just in time, dropping his cell on the floor. Unable to hold back any longer, Rossi wound his hands into Pip's hair and let himself go, groaning and shuddering.

"You little minx," he panted, once complete sentences were again a possibility. He pounced on her, pinning her down against the cushions. "I'm going to get you for that."

Pip licked her lips, making sure she hadn't missed a drop. "Is that a promise or a threat?" she asked coyly.

Rossi kissed her thoroughly, leaving her in no doubt as to his intentions. The taste of himself in her mouth was oddly arousing and with a feral growl, Rossi shoved her back along the sofa until he was level with her thighs.

"You decide," he said with a smirk, and bent his head to feast on her.

He did get her for that little trick, twice over in fact, and he took his time over it; long enough that he was able to crawl back up her body and finish her payback with a flourish that robbed them both of speech for a while. All in all, Rossi decided, a rather good way to spend their last evening of solitude before the rigours of the job took over.


	6. Business As Usual

_Business As Usual_

 _ **The key is selecting the right people to join the team, those with the right skills and values, those who embrace our purpose - Ken Jennings**_

Pip drove them back to her place early the following morning, so Rossi could pick up his car. If they were going to continue flying under the radar, they needed to arrive at work separately. It wasn't as easy as it sounded, neither of them wishing to part with the other even for a short while.

Which was part of the reason why Rossi was leaning on the railings gazing into middle distance over the bullpen, waiting for Pip to arrive. As impossible as it sounded, he missed her. They'd been apart for an hour, ninety minutes at the most, and yet it felt like someone had lopped off an arm. Three weeks joined at the hip, literally and figuratively, had made her even more an essential part of him than she'd been before.

From his vantage point he could see the potted plants by the doors to the BAU. When someone caught the elevator up from the parking garage, they brought a waft of cooler air with them, and the leaves would rustle in the resulting artificial draft whenever someone…there! Rossi craned his neck. No, it wasn't her, just someone from White Collar. Rossi relaxed back into his thoughtful pose, reflecting on what a lucky bastard he was, to finally have what he'd always wanted ever since he met her.

Hotch joined him, folding his tall frame down to lean his forearms on the top rail much as Rossi had done.

"I understand," said Hotch next to him, into the slightly uncomfortable silence that developed. They'd exchanged awkward nods of greeting when Rossi had arrived, but nothing more. "Although it still feels like I got the shitty end of the stick."

"I wanted to tell you," said Rossi softly, "but I'm glad I didn't. I learned more than I ought to in the last three weeks, enough to know my silence protected _you_ , as well as her."

"When Hayley…after…I…you promised me you'd always tell me the truth," replied Hotch haltingly. "I don't have many friends left, Dave, and I'd just lost the one person I trusted always to be honest with me, even when it meant I wouldn't like what I was hearing." He paused. "You _swore_ to me."

Rossi nodded. He remembered the night in question vividly. When Hayley died, Hotch had held himself together for two days, for Jack's sake. Then Agent Hotchner had crumbled, leaving Aaron behind. Unlike Agent Hotchner, _Aaron_ had no trouble expressing himself and Aaron had done what Agent Hotchner couldn't. He'd sobbed like a child for hours, smothering his wails of anguish in his friend's shirt so that he didn't wake his son. Rossi had cradled the younger man firmly against his chest and rubbed his back, wishing he could do more to ease the pain of Hayley's passing.

When the tears had run their course, Hotch had made Rossi promise to take up Hayley's role of absolute truth teller, no matter what. It was something Rossi had agreed to willingly at the time, and had mentally skated the edge of ever since Pip's departure.

"I didn't enjoy figuring out you'd been less than open with me for the past year," finished Hotch.

Rossi sighed. "I know. I could tell you that I never lied, only mislead, but I'm not going to argue semantics. I had the same thing from her for a long time…still do, I think; so I know it feels like there's no difference. You have to trust there was a good reason for what I did."

There was a moment's hesitation, then Hotch nodded. "I do. I've worked out enough to do that."

That felt a little too easy, like Hotch was too quick to forgive.

"Maybe one day…" Hotch stopped, eyebrow raised hopefully.

Perhaps, at some indeterminate point in the future, Rossi _would_ tell him the whole story. In the meantime, Hotch would have to make do with a highly redacted version. Telling even that much required some careful phrasing, and no small amount of luck in getting the right angle to start.

"One day," Rossi said slowly, trying to put as much distance between himself and that hopefully far distant time when he had to repeat every gruesome detail Pip had shared with him.

Their conversation halted as Pip slipped quietly through the doors of the BAU, taking a second to look around, a smile growing on her face. On Rossi's too, because just seeing her made him smile.

"Sap," muttered Hotch and nudged his shoulder. "Just, do me a favour and keep it professional in the office. Please? When I realised what the two of you were doing when I called last night, I needed therapy." He shook his head at Rossi's rather self-congratulatory smirk. "I already know _far_ more about your sex life than I want to, without catching you at it in your office or something."

"I promise," said Rossi, turning his attention back to the bullpen. "That you'll never catch me," he added under his breath, as Pip started towards the little cluster of desks that made up the AST.

Phillips was the first one to spot her. He'd taken to angling his chair towards the doors first thing in the morning, all the better to waylay an unwary agent with paperwork owing. The shock on his face was obvious.

"You didn't tell them?" asked Rossi, shooting a surprised glance at his friend.

Hotch gave him a fleeting smile. "After the last time we tried to fill that desk, I thought it time they had a nice surprise, rather than the other kind. Seemed like a good way to start."

"Boss!" Phillips leapt from his seat and strode over to Pip. Pip tensed, but Phillips just flung his arms round her in an exuberant embrace. "You're back!" he cried happily. He squeezed her once then stepped back, leaving his hands on her shoulders. "You _are_ back, aren't you?" he asked worriedly. "I'm not in charge anymore?"

Pip smiled. "No, if that's…" Pip never completed the sentence as Phillips picked her up and twirled her around in the air, chanting excited thank you's.

Rossi and Hotch both chuckled. Phillips had held up well as interim team leader while three failed recruitment attempts foundered from the off, but it was no secret that he had hated the job.

Griffin edged his way in when they stopped spinning, insinuating himself between Phillips and Pip with serpentine ease. The three of them stood there holding each other for a moment before Pip became aware that Duffy was lurking on the outer edges, unsure quite whether to join the loved-up trio. Patting Phillips and Griffin each on the shoulder, Pip partially escaped their grip to hold an arm out in invitation.

"Good to see you Hank."

"You too, ma'am."

"Hank, how many times have I told you…" Pip broke off mid-sentence as Duffy grinned conspiratorially. "Oh you!" she exclaimed as she realised he was teasing her. She slapped him playfully on the arm and pulled him roughly into the group hug. "Get in here!"

"You were right, she does belong here," murmured Hotch, as they watched the AST unite around Pip in a way they hadn't managed to unite around _anything_ in the past twelve months.

Duffy was nearly big enough to get his arms around all three of the others and the look of pure contentment on their faces said it all. They were a team, they were back together and that meant everything was right with the world again. Rossi swallowed heavily, trying to shift the lump that had suddenly developed in his throat. Next to him, he could hear Hotch stifling a cough in an attempt to do the same.

As the AST finally broke apart, Pip and Hotch made eye contact over Griffin's shoulder. Stood as he was shoulder to shoulder with him, Rossi could see everything Hotch could as Pip communicated how she did it best: without words.

There was a whole truckload of respect in that look, with equally enormous measures of gratitude and apology. She nodded to her boss, the respect made physical. A renewed pledge of allegiance. And a question, a wondering if all could be forgiven. If not yet, then perhaps someday.

Out the corner of his eye, Rossi saw Hotch return that bob of the head. Pip flashed Hotch one of her blinding megawatt smiles, those smiles that blazed brighter than the sun. She dazzled him with it for a moment before turning her attention to Morgan and Reid, who'd noticed the commotion at the back of the office and wandered over to make their own welcomes.

"Wow," muttered Hotch. "If someone woke up to that smile..."

"Oh, believe me, I know." Rossi grinned smugly. "Over the last three weeks, there were quite a few days that I never made it out of bed," he said crudely. "Trust me, I've come back to work for a rest. After a long dry spell, I've had so much recently I think the damn thing glows in the dark."

Hotch spluttered with embarrassment and hung his head. "Oh stop…no more, please," he coughed out through discomfited laughter. "You're terrible."

Their focus returned to the bullpen as the sound of running feet and a high-pitched noise that could only be described as "squeeeeeeeeee" approached at considerable speed. A polka dot blur cannoned into Pip with an audible "oof" from both parties.

"You're back, you're back, you're back, you didn't tell me, I've missed you! Oh, you're back!" Garcia took a deep breath and crushed Pip to her even harder. "Oh, I'm so pleased to see you!" She leaned back a bit with a huge smile on her face, still holding Pip tightly. "Hi."

Pip laughed. "Hi Penny."

"You owe me at least a week of girly catch-up nights, complete with mutual toenail painting and soppy films."

Rossi was probably the only one who caught the short-lived frown that Pip immediately replaced with a smile of agreement. Garcia had a way of seeing things that others didn't, and Pip was already preparing herself for some lively linguistic gymnastics in order to satisfy Garcia's curiosity without revealing too much.

"Oh, it's so good to have family coming home!" exclaimed Garcia, making a spirited attempt at squeezing the life out of Pip once more. "First JJ, and now you too!"

Rossi cheered inside. He owed Garcia a hefty donation to the charity of her choice for giving him such an easy opening.

"She's right about that, y'know," he said quietly. "It's good for our little family when a lost one returns to us." He paused for effect and turned his head slightly to watch Hotch's reaction. "Just one more to go, hmm?"

Hotch tensed nigh-on imperceptibly beside him. If Rossi hadn't already known, if he hadn't been sure and was just trying to fish for an answer; that almost-flinch would have told him straightaway that Emily was alive.

Hotch stared at him, and that look told Rossi something else. Something he _hadn't_ known, something that filled in some of the gaps. No wonder he'd been so forgiving. How interesting.

"It's amazing how similar a position each of us found ourselves in, isn't it?" asked Rossi slyly, pressing the advantage. "You know _exactly_ how it feels _and_ how hard it is." He gave Hotch a sympathetic smile and shook his head. "You wouldn't have let me off the hook so easily otherwise."

In the bullpen, Garcia had finally released Pip and the impromptu party was dying down, people drifting back to their desks.

Hotch was still staring, trying work out how he knew. How _much_ he knew. The little vein at his temple that acted as a blood pressure gauge for those that knew to look for it, fluttered wildly.

"How long…" Hotch started, just as JJ walked in.

Rossi silenced Hotch with a gentle touch to his arm. "Hang on, this is one reunion I _really_ wanted to see." It was the main reason he'd been lurking in wait.

Hotch straightened from his casual pose. "Dave…" he growled sternly.

"Watch first, then we'll talk," interrupted Rossi firmly, gaze rapidly switching back and forth between JJ and Pip to see who would notice the other first. "This is the important one. Watch."

Stiffly, tension clear in every line of his body, Hotch settled back down onto the railing next to him. They watched.

It was JJ who spotted Pip first. Her mouth dropped open in shock and she stopped dead, frozen halfway to her desk. Her sudden immobility in an office full of moving people immediately caught Pip's attention and her eyes fixed on JJ. They stared at each other for a moment, before Pip ducked around Phillips and slowly weaved her way through the desks towards the stunned blonde.

Looking curiously formal, Pip held out her hand for JJ to shake. JJ looked at the offered hand for a moment and then took it slowly, as if she wasn't sure it was real.

"You're alive," she murmured in wonder, barely loud enough for Rossi and Hotch to hear given their distance.

Hotch shot Rossi a bewildered look. "What is she…"

"Watch," Rossi repeated, not taking his eyes of the interaction taking place and ignoring both Hotch's renewed glare and his huff of frustration.

Pip took a deep breath and rummaged in her pocket for something. "Here," she said, turning JJ's hand over and reverently placing something small and metallic in the centre of her palm. Rossi had seen Pip pick up the spent .22 casing that morning, otherwise he wouldn't have known what it was.

JJ looked down at the cylinder in her hand, then back at Pip's face, which was now oddly blank. "I don't…"

"The debt was paid." Pip's eyes flickered briefly down to JJ's midsection and back up to her face as she gently folded JJ's fingers over the receipt of that payment. "I couldn't get _him_ , but I got the next best thing. It was avenged," she said, low and intense. " _Justice_ was done."

JJ choked a sob on the hand fisted tightly around the scrap of metal. "Where did you…"

Pip shook her head, refusing the question. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I made it back," she continued through the building tears, "and…and I'm sorry about…I didn't know until it was too late and I couldn't stop it, I was hit and taking fire and I couldn't get there in time, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

JJ threw her arms around Pip and held on. A little shocked, it took Pip a moment before she reciprocated.

"Good," muttered Rossi, turning away. He'd seen what he needed to.

Something had happened between them, but he didn't know what. Just as Pip had once let him slide during a heart-to-heart because the story didn't belong to him; he had let her withhold a side of her own tale out of respect for someone else's privacy. Not that he hadn't drawn some of his own conclusions.

No matter what he thought he knew, whatever the story was, it was resolved...or perhaps forgiven.

* * *

"How long have you known Emily is alive?"

Hotch barely let his door close before finishing the question he'd tried to ask before.

Rossi eased himself down onto a seat and casually crossed his legs. "Since the beginning. I remember that day clearly. It was the day I was told Pip was dead."

With a muttered expletive, Hotch dropped gracelessly into the chair opposite him and rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped out in front of him. "That explains why you've been such a complete asshole these past few months," he muttered to his shoes.

Rossi grimaced guiltily, knowing Hotch couldn't see it. He had been, he knew.

Hotch looked up. "I thought it hit you harder than I expected." He breathed out, a long hiss of understanding. "The excessive hours, the lack of sleep, your ugly temper…the speed you went through that bottle of scotch I know you've got in your bottom drawer…It wasn't Emily you were grieving for."

Rossi grimaced again and shook his head. "No. I took most of it out on you and I couldn't even tell you why."

Hotch snorted. "Yeah." He inclined his head, accepting the implied apology. "Figured it was the least I could do after everything you've done for me, but you had me worried, Dave."

Rossi nodded. "I know." He took a deep breath and began to lay out what he knew. "Hypothetically speaking," he said slowly, "what would you say if I asked you to imagine an FBI agent, a Media Liaison, let's say, for the sake of argument. One who got drafted into the Pentagon at around the same time, for example, as another operative from the same team who was deployed unexpectedly overseas. The Media Liaison might form part of the operative's backstopped cover, perhaps even be their unofficial outside contact; a sort of safeguard against the loneliness."

"I'd say you've been reading too many of those cheap spy novels they sell at airports and bus terminals," said Hotch a little uneasily.

"Possibly," Rossi admitted. "I do love them. But I'm right." He shrugged. "As sure as I can be, anyway, after Pip crashed back into my life like a rogue cannonball. Follow me down the rest of this rabbit hole, if you would."

Confused, Hotch nodded and waved a hand for Rossi to continue.

"Fast forward several months from where the valiant former Media Liaison was, and a ghost comes back to haunt their former team." Rossi raised an eyebrow and the name _Doyle_ hung between them without needing to be said. "A tragic convergence of events later, and now they're protecting _two_ people, their only form of communication with the outside world. The only one aware of _both_ situations. The nexus."

Rossi paused to let his words sink in. "Now imagine one of them fell off the grid," he said. "In a situation where that could only mean the worst had happened. On the very same day the second little bird had entered their care. The Media Liaison is the only one who knows there's someone who ought to hear the bad news, and times that notification of their death so the reaction is camouflaged under guise of grief for the other."

"That's why you insisted on watching them?" asked Hotch carefully. "JJ is the one who told you Harker was dead? On the same day we told everyone Emily died in the hospital?"

Rossi nodded. "JJ's the centre of it all." he said, steepling his hands in front of his face. "I think she's worked hard to try and keep two very brave women we love, safe."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "So, all along…you _knew_...you knew that…"

"That Emily was alive?" said Rossi gently, when it became clear Hotch was incapable of completing that sentence. "Yes. That you're in love with her?" He shook his head. "No. Your face told me that, just now, when we were talking out there." He gestured vaguely towards the door. "The last time I saw that expression of guilty panic was when you shoved me out of your way, the day we nearly lost her. I've not exactly been on top form this past year and with everything else that happened that day, I never really thought about that look until now."

Hotch frowned and glanced away, hissing an unintelligible curse under his breath.

Rossi smirked ruefully. "You hid it well. I can assure you, I had no idea. You always were better at holding your cards closer to your heart than I."

Hotch leaned back in his seat with a defeated sigh. "Until Harker came along. You prevaricated over that for _years_."

Rossi smiled, a genuine feeling of warmth filling his chest. "Until Pip, yes. But it was worth the wait." Rossi fixed Hotch with his gaze, willing him to understand. "It's worth waiting for, Aaron."

"It wasn't meant…I loved Hayley, I mean…I never…"

Rossi flapped a hand dismissively. "I know, I know. You didn't tell her. You were still in denial when Doyle got to her and then she was gone, right? Hence the "panic" part of that expression." He snorted. "Trust me, I know almost _exactly_ how that feels."

"You didn't get a chance before…" Hotch raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh, I did, the night she left." Rossi shook his head. "She didn't know if she was coming back and turned me down for my own good."

"Ouch," muttered Hotch. "That's worse than…"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Pip stuck her head in. "Sorry to interrupt sir," she said, sidling in when Hotch indicated it was ok to do so. "We've got a case."

Hotch nodded and stood, Rossi following suit a little more slowly. So much for a nice slow first day back.

Pip handed Hotch a file. "Idaho, serial rapist who's escalated to killing his victims. Copies are already in the Conference Room."

"Thank you, Harker," said Hotch, leafing quickly through the file. He nodded. "Gather the team?"

Pip smiled. "Yes sir. I'll have everything ready at this end in about ten minutes. Wheels up in forty-five."

Hotch smiled. "It's not been the same, having Phillips say that. Never sounded quite right. It's good to have you back."

"Thank you, sir," said Pip with an embarrassed duck of the head. "It's good to be back."

"Can I ask why you turned down a field posting?" asked Hotch with a sideways glance towards Rossi as if he was wondering if it was ok to ask in front of him. "Not that we haven't missed you here."

Pip flashed her boss another of those brilliant sunny smiles. "Every superhero needs a loyal retainer to gas the car and iron the cape." Her eyes darted sideways to Rossi as if to apologise for not including him under the "superhero" category, but she needn't have done. Rossi knew how highly she regarded Hotch. "It's my honour to do that here," she added.

Hotch looked a little stunned. "Iron the cape?" he asked weakly.

Pip inclined her head. "Every superhero has a cape, sir," she said seriously, a teasing smile lurking on her face. She fixed Rossi with a stern look as she turned to leave. "You buy me an ironing board and I'll use it as your headstone, you understand?" she hissed threateningly.

Hotch coughed to smother the laugh as Rossi just stood and grinned mischievously. Now _there_ was an idea to wind her up.

"Uh, Harker?" Hotch called her back before Pip got to the door. "Tell JJ last, would you? She deserves a bit of a fanfare, don't you think?" There was a calculated pause. "For her first case as a profiler."

Pip's narrowed gaze swung from Hotch to Rossi and back again, collecting volumes of information as it did so. She'd ramped up the power behind the Dave-orientated antenna she kept in her head, and it felt to Rossi like she'd picked up an entire live-action replay of his conversation with Hotch.

Pip nodded thoughtfully, with another brief flick of the eyes Rossi's way. "Yes, sir, I think she does," she said sincerely. "I'll let everyone know."

Rossi and Hotch followed Pip out the office, but Pip hung back a little in the doorway to speak to Rossi as they made their way to the Conference Room.

"Smartass," she said quietly. "Feeling proud of oneself for putting part of it together, are we?"

"A little," he admitted. A little more now that she'd basically confirmed that at least of bits what he'd figured out were correct. JJ was the key, he'd been right about that. Emily was another part of it somehow. Whether he would tell Pip about what Hotch felt for Emily, Rossi had yet to decide. Hotch was an intensely private man and would not appreciate his hidden love being shared. Even though Pip was a walking repository of other people's secrets already, and would never tell a soul.

"I'm not going to go prying, I promise," he reassured her. "Just exercising the brain I neglected to use much recently."

Pip smirked and cocked her head, analysing him. "I trust you. Oh, by the way," she added brightly, loud enough that Hotch turned to listen. "Do you still have that crappy novelty golf tee in your top drawer? The one in the presentation box with a chip on the corner, the one you keep threatening to throw away and never get 'round to it?"

Completely flummoxed, Rossi could only nod warily.

"Good. Leave it with me before you go." Pip darted away, leaving Rossi and Hotch on the threshold of the Conference Room.

Hotch clapped Rossi on the shoulder in mock-commiseration as they separated to take their seats. "I see she still bosses you around," he said across the table with a smirk.

"Oh yes," Rossi agreed. He leaned back in his seat with a smile and closed his eyes. "God, I've missed that," he sighed contentedly.

"Masochist," coughed Hotch into his fist, as the rest of the team started to filter in.

JJ got her round of applause and good-natured teasing before they set to work. Rossi was the only one that saw Pip stop to watch for a moment on the walkway, clutching a file. She caught his eye, and nodded once in satisfaction before striding away.


	7. Family Affair

_A/n: Extra special treat, I've got 3 more for you today...when I said I'd taken a break, that may not have been..._ strictly _true..._

* * *

 _Family Affairs_

 ** _Only a person who is motivated in the inner depths of his being will help without hesitation and with no obligation for the one helped - Eraldo Banovac_**

Grumbling and muttering to himself, Rossi fought with his paperwork. They'd changed the damn forms again and he was utterly at sea.

Pip sniggered. They were both working late after the team had flown home, late enough that they were the only ones left in the office. Even Hotch had already gone. With no one else around, Pip had set up camp in his office to work, rather than doing so alone in the bullpen.

"You having fun there?" she asked with a laugh.

"No," he growled with loathing, throwing his pen down on the desk. "These forms change too often and I'm completely lost. Is it parts two, four and five, or two, six and eight I need to do?"

Pip put down the file she'd been reading and leaned back on the couch. "Depends. Which one is it you're complaining about this time?"

Rossi sighed. "Agent Involved Shooting."

"You shoot someone I don't know about?"

"No. Missed." He was still pissed off about that. The UnSub had reversed out of his garage at high speed and nearly killed Morgan. In the confusion that followed, Rossi had managed to get off five rounds, none of which had hit the target.

"Residential area?" she asked. Rossi nodded. "Any casualties?"

"Back window of the asshole's car, two fence posts and a cherry tree."

Pip raised an eyebrow. "Really? You scored high on your last recertification, what happened?"

"He tried to mow us down with his sedan and then drove off," Rossi grumbled. "First two that hit his window were from the middle of the hedge I'd thrown myself in; by the time I'd extricated myself and fired the last three, he was already half way down the street and still accelerating."

Pip nodded. "Fair enough. Sounds like you did well to hit the car at all. You want the AIS4, Weapon Discharge rather than the full AIS1 Agent Involved Shooting report."

"I'd got that far _without_ help," snapped Rossi irritably.

"Parts three, seven and ten, and don't forget the declaration at the end," replied Pip easily, ignoring his bad mood. "While we're on the subject, what time did you get to the second crime scene?"

"About half eight, it'll be in the log," Rossi said absently, picking up his pen once more and starting to slog through the form in front of him. _Part 3: Reason for discharging weapon._ "Because I was too far away to strangle him," he muttered, and started to write.

"I know it's in the log, but have you seen the state of it?" Out the corner of his eye, Rossi could see Pip holding up a bedraggled collection of paper. "It's all smudged and stained. Who was keeping the record? I can't even read their name."

Rossi looked up, pen pausing in mid-word, brows furrowed in thought. He could picture the guy, a skinny young thing with too much neck, and ears he could probably pick up satellite tv with. One could only hope the unfortunate boy would grow into them, although given their size, he had a way to go. He'd looked a bit like a wing-nut in police uniform.

"Some young patrolman, looked barely old enough to shave." Rossi shook his head, the name just wouldn't come. "His name was…Derwent, or Dewalt, something like that. Began with a D anyway. Didn't make much of an impression, if you see what I mean. I think it was his first dead body, he looked like he'd had a bit of a shock. I mean, I've seen worse, even though she was only eighteen."

"Raped and stabbed once? Could have been a _lot_ worse," said Pip. "She could have been mutilated, or tortured, or fourteen. Or _ten_."

"Sounds callous to rank shades of depravity, but I know what you mean," he agreed. "I've had years to develop a cast-iron stomach in the face of stuff like that. He hasn't. He decorated the victim's rosebushes with his breakfast as they wheeled her out…" Rossi trailed off as understanding dawned on them both.

"…and wiped his mouth with the crime scene log afterwards," finished Pip. She changed her grip on the offending paperwork to a single finger and thumb. "How nice. You'd think he'd start over or bag it or something, wouldn't you?" Pip shook her head, a rueful smile forming. "The things I put up with in this job, honestly."

Rossi let out a single bark of laughter. "See? This is why I hate paperwork. There's always something to catch you out."

Pip smirked and deposited the soiled log back on the table, pushing it aside with a pen. "I think I'll ask Strauss to sign off on a certified copy of this and tag the original as a biohazard. That way, I can archive it with the evidence rather than in my Master file."

"You and Strauss seem more…" Rossi hunted for a suitable word. "Friendly" was too strong, but from what he'd seen, it wasn't a million miles off. "…civil, since you got back," he finished.

Pip shrugged. "Figured we ought to bury the hatchet. Circumstances change, so do people. Politics runs this place, Dave, I had to adapt my strategy for dealing with her. Butting heads wasn't getting me anywhere."

"I thought you hated politics."

Pip nodded. "I do, but I spent a lot of years travelling the world engineering things so that other people's politics happened the way my superiors wanted them to." She smiled ruefully. "Just because I don't like the game, doesn't mean I don't know how to play."

As if speaking of the woman summoned her presence, Strauss breezed in with barely a courtesy tap on the doorframe to announce herself. "Good, I'm glad you're both here."

Rossi exchanged raised eyebrows with Pip. That didn't bode well at all. Strauss was rarely pleased to see _either_ of them, so finding them together shouldn't have been "good" by any stretch of the imagination.

"Agent Hotchner is going on assignment to Afghanistan," Strauss went on. "Congratulations David, you're Unit Chief until he gets back."

Rossi's mouth dropped open. "You've got to be kidding me," he spluttered, studiously ignoring Pip, who was muffling her laughter in her sleeve. "No. I refuse." He paused, thinking desperately. "Can't you ask Morgan? He'd be glad to do it, I'm sure." Strauss just stared at him. "Ah, _can_ I refuse?" he added hesitantly, realising he already knew the answer before he'd even finished speaking.

Strauss offered him a thin smile. "No, I'm afraid not. Neither of us is happy with this, believe me, but it's unavoidable."

Rossi decided to change tack. If he had to do it, he was taking Pip with him. Someone had to help him with the bureaucratic BS that came with the job of Unit Chief, or he'd drown in it; and it might as well be her because she was _good_ at that sort of thing. Not to mention that he'd like to keep her as close to him as possible for the foreseeable future.

"If I'm in charge, can I draft another agent into the team? Agent Harker for example?" Rossi met Pip's horrified gaze over Strauss's shoulder. No longer laughing, she was desperately making warding off gestures of refusal behind Strauss's back. "Just to make sure we're not going to be compromised by the fact that I'll be floundering in paperwork, instead of actually doing my job."

Strauss turned, just as Pip fell still. "Yes, you may, however not right now. Officer Harker has been temporarily reassigned."

 _Officer_ Harker? Rossi's heart thudded. Strauss knew?

Pip leapt from her seat, tension and fury clear in her body language. She'd also caught the reference to her other career.

"Reassigned where?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Romania, it's an active posting…"

Rossi felt the pen in his hand creak as his fingers clenched around it. Not again. She'd only just got back for fuck's sake! They couldn't do it to him again.

"No!" cried Pip. "No way. I'm not going. I've only just returned to the Bureau, ma'am, I've barely been back at my desk for three days! I'm not even cleared to go in the field! I gave up that title when I came back and…" Pip hesitated briefly, "…and the rather murky situation with my ah, previous employer…"

"Has no bearing on this," interrupted Strauss. "The assignment is at the request of the Office of Special Projects in Los Angeles, but it's addressed to Officer Harker I think, to make a point."

Strauss gave Pip a look that Rossi couldn't properly see, but whatever that look said to Pip, it took all the fight out of her. He stood warily, dreading what was coming. She was leaving again. The resigned slump to her shoulders telegraphed it clearly.

"OSP?" Pip whispered.

Strauss nodded and handed her the packet she'd been carrying. "You're to report to Romania for a surveillance and assistance operation. The request comes directly from the OSP Operations Manager." Strauss paused and added more sympathetically, "there's a personal note from her in there for you, as well."

Pip ripped open the packet, ignoring the official paperwork and focussing on a heavy sheet of cream-coloured notepaper.

Rossi couldn't see Strauss's face any longer, but he could see Pip's as she read. She paled, but two furious roses of anger bloomed on her cheeks.

"She… _played_ me!" Pip cried incredulously. "That wily, conniving little… _garden gnome!_ _That's_ why she…she _knew_ …she _planned_ this," she hissed. "Oooh, if I get my hands on her before they do..." She closed her eyes and let out a growl of pure frustration. "Urgh. I hate it when she gets the better of me, I really do. I should have known it was all too good to be true."

Pip massaged her temple for a moment, pulling her thoughts together, then sighed. "When do I leave?"

"There's a car downstairs waiting impatiently to escort you to the airstrip. It's not one of ours." Strauss harrumphed in annoyance. "That woman doesn't hang around, does she?"

Pip snorted. "No ma'am, she doesn't."

There was another of those looks between them that Rossi couldn't interpret, and he finally lost his temper. "Now, hang on just a minute," he interrupted, leaning over his desk in what he hoped was an intimidating manner. "If I'm Unit Chief for the moment, then I'm Pip's boss. Don't I at least get _some_ input in this decision?" He'd called her Pip in front of Strauss rather than Harker, but that was the least of his concerns. "We need her here!" That, at least, was the truth. Phillips and Griffin and Duffy needed her, and dammit, _he_ needed her too.

Pip met his worried gaze. "I told you she'd collect," she said, before Strauss could say anything.

Rossi sat down heavily as he put the final piece together. He knew who they were talking about and why Pip had no choice. "Oh."

Pip smirked humourlessly. "Yeah."

Strauss looked back and forth between them, her questioning stare finally resting on Pip. Pip raised her chin and stared steadily back. There was a moment's silence as the two women scrutinised each other, then Strauss nodded.

"I'll hold off the escort while you prepare," she said understandingly, "I can give you maybe twenty minutes at the most." Strauss swept away, leaving Pip and Rossi alone in his office.

Pip subsided down on to the couch, head in her hands. "I didn't think it would be this soon." Pip snorted with mirthless laughter. "Or quite like this."

"Like what?" asked Rossi, still trying to work out what had happened with Strauss.

Pip waved the letter at him and Rossi crossed the room so he could take it from her hand. Ignoring the letter for a moment, he pulled Pip to her feet and peered into her face.

"You're coming back." It wasn't a question, although there was overtones of a question mixed in there somewhere. He needed to know. He'd lived through a year of heartache, the last three months of which had been a descent into a black fog he could never have previously conceived of. "I _need_ you, Pip. You _are_ coming back."

"Of course I am. This isn't the same as last time. I promise," she replied and kissed him. Rossi wrapped his arms around her and thoroughly kissed her back.

* * *

Pip had considerably less than twenty minutes to gather her things by the time he'd finished with her, and he'd never be able to look at his desk the same way again. Pip fluttered about, scribbling notes to her team and hastily shoving a few final items in her bag while Rossi tucked his shirt back in. No point advertising what they'd done after all, although one good look at the state of her would give it away. With her hair and clothes mussed and lips swollen, it didn't take an IQ as high as Reid's to work out kind of farewell they'd indulged themselves in. In his office, across his desk. Rossi smirked. Hotch would execute him if he ever found out.

"…and don't let Agent Morgan out of your sight unless he's turned in his prelim report, he's got a bit of a thing about not writing down stuff that he doesn't agree with. Phillips can help you there, he knows what he's…" Pip sighed and halted the endless monologue of last-minute instructions. "You know all this, why am I telling you?"

"Because you're nervous and you don't want to go," replied Rossi. He didn't want her to go either, but at least this time it was a good deal less frightening because he knew the whole story. The note that came with her new orders had been quite detailed. Pip wouldn't be in the front line, something he'd found incredibly reassuring.

In repayment for saving her life from a CIA termination order, Pip was to fly to Romania to help her friend with a situation regarding a large crime family based there. The family had some kind of blood feud with one of OSP's agents, an agent without a family, an agent who'd moved around federal law enforcement most of his life. An agent with a story eerily similar to Pip's. Rossi had to wonder just how much this woman in LA had been involved in Pip's move first to the CIA, then the Bureau.

It was anticipated that the rest of the OSP team would turn up at some point, and Pip was to help them with vehicles, weapons and translation services, and anything else that proved necessary, short of armed backup. Subtly, in the background, where she worked best, out of sight. If all went well, they wouldn't even know she was there.

"No, I don't want to go," agreed Pip. "I don't want to be in the field and I don't ever want to be an ocean away from you again." She rummaged first in one pocket, then started frantically patting each of them in turn. "Winston," she muttered, "where are you?"

"Winston? Do I even want to know?" asked Rossi. He sneaked a hand under her top and traced the line of the knife holster that sat just beneath her bra, while his other hand ran up her ass to the one at her back. "Have you named these or something?"

Pip huffed and batted his hands away. "No. Well, yes. I call them The Twins. Always ready to wade into the fray and stab someone in the back."

Rossi grinned at the reference. "So, who's Winston?" he asked.

"Ah, there he is!" Pip held out the lone 9mm round that Rossi had first seen when he'd emptied her backpack after her year away. "Winston. I was going to put him in that little box you gave me, but I've not had a chance. Good job, I suppose," she added wryly.

"I've got to ask – Winston?"

Pip cocked her head. "Named for Winston Churchill, British Prime Minister in WW2. When he walked around London in the Blitz, he was armed. He'd carry three clips of ammo and a single round in his pocket; that way, if he was outgunned and outnumbered with no hope of winning through, he would always have one last shot left to make sure he was never taken alive." Pip tossed the bullet in her hand a couple of times. "This was my last shot and because I never had to use it, I kept it as a souvenir."

Rossi grabbed the hand holding the bullet in a grip so tight it must have hurt her. She'd walked around for a whole year with a concrete plan to blow her own brains out if it came to it. That she'd had think like that horrified him all over again, even though he already knew the tale from beginning to grisly end.

Pip made no indication of discomfort, but laid her other hand on his arm. "I was going to keep him on my bookshelf, but I've got a better idea for the moment." She extricated her hand from his grasp and dropped the round into his palm. "I'm coming back for this," she said softly. "I don't need him where I'm going, you keep him safe for me until I get home."

Rossi folded his hand around the bullet. Winston. Something tangible to hang onto while she was gone.

"You'll stay in touch?" he asked as they made their way to the elevator.

"As much as I can, but don't worry unless you haven't heard anything for about a week. I'm hoping it won't come to that," she added when he opened his mouth to object. "I finally get to square the ledger with her. It's been a long time coming, and if I need to go dark for a while to do so, then I will." Pip cupped his cheek with her hand. "Know that I love you, David Stephen Rossi."

"I love you too, Philippa Kellie Harker," he replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Be careful."

Pip nodded. "I will." She stood up on tip toes to kiss him.

"Strauss," he murmured, a note of caution in case they were caught. Not that it stopped him taking her in his arms again.

"She knows," whispered Pip against his lips. "That entire conversation in your office was to get us a little leeway with the rules."

"What conversation?"

Pip winked and grinned cheekily. "When women talk about men, we often do it without words. Not my fault you weren't listening."

She gave him one last peck. "See you soon."


	8. Om Rau Part 1

_Om Rau Part 1_

 _ **Trying to do two or more things at a time, when even one on its own needs full effort, means that none of them will be accomplished properly – Romanian proverb**_

Thankfully, or disturbingly, depending on which way one could look at it, the BAU had three long cases in the twelve days Pip was away. Rossi was far too busy to spend much time worrying about her. He'd received a text message notifying him of her safe landing in Romania, from an unknown number that was unreachable when he tried to call back. Another message arrived forty-eight hours later, from a different number. He didn't bother trying to call or respond a second time.

The pattern continued, every forty-eight hours a message would arrive from a strange number, each with a cryptic reference to a previous conversation or a shared joke. The code provided reassurance that it was really Pip on the end of each of the messages, and Rossi just had to trust that everything was well. Her latest text early that morning had even made him laugh when he'd read it, despite the disturbing case they were working.

" _Sarchasm: the gulf that exists between the author of sarcastic wit and a certain Irishman who doesn't get it."_

Duffy was bright, and a consummate legal professional, but Pip's particular brand of dry-to-the-point-of-Saharan humour often passed him by, much to the amusement of both Rossi and the rest of the AST.

Rossi fell into bed that evening, exhausted. They'd landed late at night after four dreadful days in South Dakota, and there had still been two hours work with Phillips before either of them could leave.

Rossi's admiration for Hotch had risen sharply in the past week or so, and he now thoroughly understood why Hotch was usually the last to leave the office when they flew home from a case. He didn't doubt that Hotch was better at the administrative side of the work than he was, but then, _most_ people were. What that meant in reality, however, was that what Hotch had made look easy, was burying him in files. His admiration for Pip had gone up too, having seen first-hand how much Phillips had to do for the Unit Chief in her stead. AST had shouldered a lot of the work that Hotch had been doing, now that they no longer had a Media Liaison.

He was just drifting off when his cell started chirping merrily from the bedside table. Rossi turned over to grab it with a heartfelt groan of disgust. It stopped ringing before he got to it and he sagged face first into his mattress.

"Just _one_ night in my own bed. Please. Is that too much to ask?" he mumbled plaintively to the sheets.

A text message came through while he was debating whether or not he could afford to ignore the missed call. It wasn't a serious debate, he knew he'd have to answer, but imagining he had a choice about it made him feel better. He hated being Unit Chief with every fibre of his being. Rossi grabbed his cell and opened the message first when he didn't recognise the number that had called.

" _Answer the door."_

More alert by the moment, he realised he could hear someone knocking and Mudgie whining in the kitchen. He must have been further asleep than he thought.

He threw a dressing gown over his pyjamas and padded quickly down the stairs, yanking open the door.

"You really ought to give me a key," said Pip, "that way I wouldn't have to wake you up in order to sneak into your bed." She stood with her hands on her hips, leather backpack slung casually over one shoulder. In the light thrown from his hallway, Rossi could see she had a bit of a tan and smug air of satisfaction, accentuated by a cheeky smile. "You going to let me in, or what?"

Rossi pulled her towards him and kissed her. He manoeuvred them backwards, peeling the backpack from her shoulder and kicking the door shut with his foot. He pushed her up against it, lips still fused with hers.

"I missed you," he whispered huskily as they parted.

"I can see that," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I can feel it too," she added with a smirk, pushing the dressing gown aside and sliding her hand downwards to where he already stood at full salute. Pip ignored his silent pleas to slip her hand inside his pyjamas, content instead with cupping him through the silky material.

"It's been almost a fortnight, what do you expect?" he retorted against her neck as he kissed his way down her throat, groaning as she gave him a firm squeeze.

Pip laughed softly and wound the fingers of her free hand through his hair. "If this is the greeting I get, I'm going to go away more often."

"Don't you dare," Rossi muttered, working his way back up the other side.

"I never want to go in the field again. That was the last time."

"Good." He kissed her possessively all over again, unable to stop himself thrusting furiously against her skilled hand. "You keep that up, it'll all be over before it's started," he panted as their lips parted.

"Can't have that, can we?" said Pip, releasing him with a wink. "Seems waiting was good for you." She ducked out of his arms before he could show her just how wrong she was. Her shirt hit him in the face as he turned. Pip scampered away and stopped halfway up the stairs, twirling her bra around one hand. "Well? How much longer you want to wait?"

With energy he didn't know he possessed, Rossi chased her up the stairs and into his bed.

"Not that I wasn't pleased to see you…" he started as they lay spooned together afterwards, limbs still entwined.

"Really?" Pip snorted. "I couldn't tell," she said drily.

"…but why turn up at my door in the middle of the night?"

"You're senile," she retorted. "You're here, where else could I _possibly_ want to be?"

Rossi tightened his arms around her and kissed her shoulder. "I love you too," he replied softly, answering the implied statement buried in the insult somewhere. He hesitated, but then asked anyway, remembering the sense of smugness he'd detected earlier. "So, it went alright in Romania?"

Pip nodded against him. "More or less. My friend got shot, but she'll survive." She snorted softly. "I call her my friend, but she isn't, not really. More like an intermittent thorn in my side, always leaping to my defence when I need it the most, but only when it suits her best, when she needs something in return." Pip idly ran her hand down his arm, silent for a few moments. Rossi kept quiet, letting her tell it at her own pace. He'd realised recently that if he asked questions, she'd answer them, but it would invariably mean skipping over things he wanted to hear.

"I think the feud is settled," she said eventually, "but the agent it was all about still has his questions. He doesn't even know his own name. Just an initial. It was all very sad." She paused again.

"It's funny really," Pip said slowly. "Funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha…we're so similar, he and I. Both parentless, our lives followed the same direction, down to the multiple foster-homes. For different reasons, we both caught the eye of the same master schemer and have had our lives not-so gently manipulated by her ever since. The only difference is that he's embraced that, and her, whereas I'm just relieved the part of my life that involves her is over. He was a Company man too, back in the day. I may have even unknowingly crossed paths with him at some point, second or third-hand. Probably did, knowing _her_." She sighed. "Things were so much simpler then, the enemies easier to see. Now they look like everybody else."

"Years in the BAU has taught me that they always have done," disagreed Rossi gently. "We flew home from South Dakota only a few hours ago, having caught a perfectly normal-looking family who'd been hunting street kids and using them as punch bags. Four vulnerable homeless children, all beaten to death by people you wouldn't even give a second glance."

Pip turned around in his arms so she could face him properly. "That's awful! Oh, Dave, that's…are you ok?"

Rossi gathered her closer and tucked her head under his chin. "I am now."

* * *

Sleep came quickly to both of them, but the alarm went off far too early for either of their liking. Especially Pip, who was still operating on European time. Waking up next to her was worth the early alarm, in Rossi's opinion. That feeling lasted until Garcia rang halfway through breakfast to notify him that the BAU had a case, _again_. The last of their food was eaten on the road.

If Hotch still had any lingering doubts about them being able to keep it professional in the office, he needn't have worried. With Rossi as Unit Chief, Pip reported directly to him, and she treated him with the same respect and courtesy she usually gave Hotch. It was rather unnerving actually, since Rossi was used to the affectionate profanity that historically punctuated their relationship.

Within an hour of arriving at her desk, Pip and Garcia had the team herded onto the jet and on their way. They were flying to rural Alabama where a small-town sheriff had five dead women, the details of which had thrown up a hit on the HSK database. The link to a series of previously unsolved murders was enough to convince Rossi they needed to investigate.

Which was going to be easier said than done. Rossi quickly realised that as they drove further and further from civilisation. Once they landed in Birmingham, it took them hours to drive to the little town that would be their base. To say they were in the middle of nowhere was an understatement. The nearest accommodation Pip had been able to find for them was a scruffy motel an hour's drive from the body dump site, and the closest law enforcement was forty minutes in the other direction.

The local sheriff was doing his best but was clearly out of his depth, having never investigated even a single murder, let alone five at once. He simply didn't have the resources to help them, either in terms of people or hardware. The Bureau SUVs Pip's team had arranged to meet them at Birmingham-Shuttlesworth airport were probably the most high-tech bits of kit for miles around. Rossi still hadn't managed to work out how Phillips had done it, because by his calculations, there wasn't an FBI field office within a hundred miles, yet the vehicles had made it there before the team did.

Of course, the isolation was undoubtedly why their UnSubs had set up camp in such an out of the way, pretty part of the world in the first place.

Pretty, that was, apart from the motel they had to stay in.

"Nice place," commented Morgan dubiously, glancing around at the room he and Rossi were sharing.

Rossi had to agree. It was a small establishment, the three rooms Pip had arranged for them were the last ones available, despite the generally run-down state of the place. Water stains on the ceiling, chipped paint and a generally shabby air went with the faintly musty smell of the room.

"Just be glad you're not sharing with Reid," he muttered, throwing his bag on the bed nearest the door. The lumpy-looking mattress sagged alarmingly. "I could have pulled rank and taken the single and left you to fend for yourself. Hopefully we won't be here long."

"I hope you're right, Rossi," said Morgan, "because more than a couple of nights in this place and I'm gonna start sleeping in the damn _car_."

* * *

Two days later, with a profile in place and an idea of where to start, Rossi outlined his plan to the Jackson County sheriff. The poor man just stood there squinting at him, chewing industriously on his moustache.

"This is rural Alabama, Agent Rossi. We're a bit off the beaten path, you might say."

His heavy accent made translation at speed quite a challenge, the Midland dialect apparently adding an "r" in the most unexpected places and distorting the vowel sounds almost to be unrecognisable. Rossi had to concentrate to keep up.

"Our nearest big town is Scottsboro," continued the harassed-looking Sheriff. "Not a huge Romanian population round here, if you see what I mean. I can ask around, but the nearest law enforcement translator with the kind of training you need is probably in Montgomery. A good five hours away. It could take _days_ to organise everything you want."

Rossi shook his head and glanced out the window. "We're fairly sure they'll move at nightfall and then we will have lost our chance. We don't have that kind of time. I have a better idea." He fished his cell out of his jacket pocket and hit speed dial.

"No," said Pip firmly, once he'd explained. "Absolutely not."

" _Bella_ …"

"Don't you " _Bella_ " me! You know _exactly_ what you're asking me to do."

Rossi sighed. "Yes, but I don't have a choice. In a Bureau chopper, it'll take you less time to get here than my nearest alternative." He glanced around at the overly rural and naïve deputies scurrying about aimlessly. "I need someone that I can trust in the field who speaks the language, and you're it," he said shortly. "Get your ass out here, I need you."

"Is that an order, sir?" she asked coldly.

Rossi gritted his teeth. He was going to pay for this, he knew it. "If it has to be," he said slowly. "Pip, I…"

"See you in two hours, _sir_ ," she spat, and hung up on him.

Pip was still furious with him when she arrived. As if her arrival by Bureau helicopter hadn't been dramatic enough, Pip's entrance to the sheriff's department certainly made the point clear. With her leather bag slung across her back and a thunderous expression, Pip strode through the room as if she owned it, scattering people as she moved. It was like the parting of the Red Sea, burly sheriff's deputies practically falling over themselves to get out of her way.

Pip came to a stop in front of Rossi with one hand casually resting near the weapon at her left hip. Casual, yet implicitly threatening.

"Reporting as ordered, sir." Her eyes flashed with fire, and Rossi took a quick glance around him at the curious agents and deputies alike.

He gestured towards the Sheriff's office, which was currently empty. "Can I have a word in private?"

"I think that would be a good idea, sir, yes."

Rossi winced. Oh, he was in for it, he really was. Pip dropped her bag and coat on a handy chair and proceeded him into the tiny office.

Rossi closed the door carefully behind him. "Pip…"

"Which part of "never again" didn't you fucking understand?" she snapped, "because I don't have the puppets and crayons to explain it to you!"

"Pip…" Rossi tried again, but Pip simply overrode him.

" _I don't want to be in the field!_ You know damn well why. I _like_ my desk, and I already wish I was back behind it."

"I know," sighed Rossi. Her skills scared her, and Pip had no desire to use them again if she could possibly help it. She wanted a normal life, as much as that was feasible while working for the FBI.

Rossi cast a quick glance at the rest of the team outside, who appeared to be studiously working. Which meant they were probably hanging on every word. Morgan in particular, had been dead against Rossi's idea of bringing Pip in on their investigation. As far as he knew, her last field posting had been years ago, and he was understandably concerned about having a liability in the field. JJ had just raised a slightly questioning eyebrow, as if she were aware of Pip's loathing of field work. Which on reflection, she probably was. Who knew what they'd discussed when Pip checked in with her while overseas?

"Look," he said, trying to sound conciliatory. "I need you here, and it took me some smooth talking with Strauss too, because you haven't passed the mandatory psych evaluation."

Pip laughed bitterly. "Well, _that_ was a wasted effort. I went to see her before I left. All that crawling and I'd already dealt with it," she said disdainfully. "She'll hold that over your head, you know."

Now, she just sounded smug. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Wonderful," he muttered. His day was getting better and better. "Pip, if there was another way…"

"You ordered me here, and here I am. Doesn't mean I like it," said Pip shortly.

"I'm almost surprised," remarked Rossi. "You don't usually take orders from me, in fact you barely take suggestions."

"True, but right now, you're the boss, as ridiculous as that sounds," she shot back. Pip huffed. "This isn't getting us anywhere." She turned her back to him for a moment, taking a few paces towards the tiny window. She straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. When she turned back, Pip was all business; every inch Agent Harker, with a faint sheen of _Officer_ Harker visible too. "Tell me what you need me to do."

"I'm forgiven?" he asked with a smile.

"I didn't say that," Pip replied archly. "But in the interests of keeping things professional, I won't tell how you can make it up to me until after we get home."

He liked the sound of that. Rossi nodded. "Deal. Now, this is the situation…"

He'd barely finished explaining when there was a commotion outside, and Reid knocked on the office door. "Rossi, I think you need to come see this. It's…ah _bigger_ than we'd planned."

Rossi glanced at Pip. "You ready?"

Pip subtly loosened her blades in their sheaths and frowned. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"And if we don't get what we need…"

Pip shot him a look that chilled him to the bones. "I'll improvise."

* * *

Why the Birmingham Evening News was outside demanding answers already was anyone's guess, but the frenzy they'd managed to whip up in a short space of time was impressive, if inconvenient. It was a far larger and angrier crowd than Rossi had anticipated when he'd come up with this open-air town hall meeting idea. Pip's arrival by chopper hadn't helped either, despite speed being the priority. Everyone knew they were in town, and to have another agent fly out from Quantico only heightened the curiosity. For such a small place, there were a lot of people; it looked like everyone from the surrounding area was there, not just residents. Among the townspeople and esteemed members of the vulture press corps, also stood family members of the five young women who'd been first abducted, then murdered. It was an ugly crowd, baying for justice, or possibly revenge.

JJ stepped forward to try and calm them so they could start, and it all went to hell; the insults and jeers being thrown quickly being exchanged for heavier objects. She dodged the first vegetable-based missiles thrown but ducked behind Morgan as someone lobbed a large stone straight at her. The crowd, sensing weakness, surged forward like a human tidal wave. Suddenly everything was a shoving match. Vastly outnumbered, the meagre combined force of the FBI and the sheriff were overrun. The podium was knocked over and the team was pushed back up the steps towards the sheriff's office. Rossi was aware of Pip wading towards the centre of the melee and tried to shout a warning as he saw the flash of a blade in the afternoon sunlight.

She either ignored him or didn't hear, grasping a man by his denim shirt and pulling him forward to speak quietly in his ear. He said something back and Pip released him. They nodded to each other and Denim Shirt started shouting at the crowd to settle down. It was working too, Pip having identified the one man the crowd might listen to. The father of the first girl abducted. She stepped away from him with one hand at her back, straight into the path of the man with a knife. Pip caught Rossi's eye and winked.

With a triumphant cry, the man with a knife grabbed her around the neck from behind, and held the blade to her throat. Rossi halted Morgan's instinctive rush forward with an arm across his chest, even as his own blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

Morgan turned to look at him with an indignant frown. "Rossi, what…"

"We all have guns, and I bet half the crowd does too. How well do you think this will end if we start shooting?" asked Rossi tensely. "Negotiation will be more effective." He knew she had everything under control, but that didn't make it any easier. If the hothead with a knife didn't kill Pip, then _he_ would, just for scaring him so fucking badly. _Improvise_ , indeed. He wished he'd known what that meant beforehand, because he was pretty sure he'd nearly had a fucking _stroke_.

"I'll kill her!" shouted the knifeman, unaware he was in a rapidly widening empty circle with no support. Whatever Pip had said to the bereaved father had calmed the beast, for the moment. "If you don' give us some answers, an' I mean _right now_ , I'll cut her pretty little throat!"

"Really?" asked Pip, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Look down, my friend."

Knifeman looked down to see a blade much sharper than his own had slit its way through the thin cotton of his jeans pocket, and was resting gently against his briefs and all they contained. He tried to move away from Pip, but she twitched the blade slightly, enough to make him cringe.

"No, no quick moves, friend," she said casually. "I tend to make sudden, abrupt gestures when I'm startled, and unless you'd like to pee sitting down for the rest of your life, I suggest you keep very, _very_ still." The man stopped moving immediately, and there were some sniggers from the crowd.

"That's better," crooned Pip. "Good. Now, you're going to drop the knife, aren't you? _Aren't you?"_ she added more forcefully when he didn't respond as quickly as she'd like, punctuating her remark with another soft jab against the man's privates.

The man dropped the knife with a squeak that prompted more sniggers from the crowd. Pip turned to face him, changing hands on the blade still poking into his pants as she did so. The movement was graceful, almost balletic. "Good. Now, we're here to help all you nice people, to find out what happened to your loved ones, and that wasn't very friendly, was it?"

The man looked around desperately for help that never going to come. "Guess not," he admitted, starting to sound rather scared.

"No, it wasn't," agreed Pip, shrugging with a casual motion that moved the knife up a little higher. "I'm sure you're _really_ sorry for throwing that stone at my friend, aren't you?"

The man nodded pathetically, body straining upwards as if he could get away from the knife threatening to castrate him.

"I thought so. Say "sorry, Agent Jereau". Then we can get on with why we're all here."

"Ss-sorry, A-Agent Jarrow," stammered the man, stumbling over the pronunciation of JJ's surname. He was by then pale and sweating copiously, and the sniggers in the crowd had turned to outright laughter.

"That's enough, Harker!" shouted Rossi.

"Yes, sir." Pip stepped back, wiping her blade on the man's shirt and filing it away at her back as quickly as it had appeared.

"Sheriff?" she called out. "I won't press charges, but I think my friend here could do with a night in cells to consider his actions." She sniffed. "And probably some clean underpants too."

She stalked back up the steps into the single storey cabin that served the sheriff as a base of operations, with a nod to the team as she passed. Two deputies collared the unfortunate young man who'd tried to get the best of her and hauled him away. A familiar odour wafted past as they did so, confirming Pip's suggestion that he needed a change of underwear.

JJ grinned at Rossi and started to talk to the crowd, now much calmer and more willing to listen than before.

Morgan, Reid and Seaver all turned identical quizzical expressions on Rossi, almost in synchrony. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He should have known she'd do something like that. She'd done it to him after all, unboxing her talents for one little show and packing them away again as if nothing had happened. But in her anger toward him, she'd left him to try and to explain it everybody else.

"She picked up some self-defence tricks at the Pentagon," he said with a shrug. That was enough for Seaver, but Morgan and Reid both turned wondering eyes towards the door Pip had disappeared through.

* * *

Out the top window of the farmhouse, Rossi watched with trepidation as Morgan and Pip slipped into the enormous storage unit. Although "storage unit" was a generous term, implying something substantial and well-maintained. It was more like a huge ramshackle barn, covering an area roughly the size of a football field. It was one of several they'd seen dotted around the community, used for storing everything from chickens to rotting tractors. Except that one. If they were right, it had housed five young women in preparation for shipping them overseas.

The crowd at the sheriff's office had given them some useful information, as Rossi had thought it would, yet with the limited time and resources they had to work with, their secretive little expedition was risky. It was supposed to be purely to confirm what they thought they already knew, but there was no guarantee they'd find anything. It was where the women had been held, but the team had already moved on, and while they searched, they were getting further ahead.

After seeing Pip in action, Morgan had no more concerns about her being in the field and had gladly volunteered to accompany her to the barn. The light was failing and they needed to move as quickly as possible, even if that meant splitting up. Hopefully, there'd be some form of paperwork or records they could use to find out where the UnSubs were going to hit next, because it didn't look like there was anything in the house.

That didn't stop Rossi worrying, and for the first time he truly appreciated why relationships between team members were discouraged. All the time she was safe at her desk in the BAU, his involvement with her had no impact on his decision-making. Out in the field, he was second-guessing himself every step of the way, delicately treading the fine line between significant other and immediate superior.

"She'll be fine," whispered JJ next to him. Rossi glanced at her, but JJ had already turned away to talk to Reid.

"Rossi, this place is a maze," came Morgan's voice through his earpiece. "Junk piled up everywhere, no clear lines of sight. We're going to have to do this the hard way and work out a route as we go."

There was a dismissive tut. "Climb," was all Pip said and the comms channel was filled with the sounds of exertion as she hauled herself up an unknown obstacle, having apparently left her mic on as she did so.

"Woman's half mountain goat, I swear it," muttered Morgan with a note of admiration. "Which way, Harker?"

"That way," replied Pip. "There's an open area, could be their hiding spot in this chaos. East…ish. Head for the broken skylight." There was a grunt as Pip clambered up a little higher. "Boss, there's a second entrance at the side of the place, about halfway along the south wall. Looks disguised somehow, that's why we didn't see it from outside. No idea if there's a clearer route through or not."

"Ok. Keep going the way you are unless you get stuck," replied Rossi. "Let us know if you find anything."

"Yeah, just as soon as I work out a way down," grumbled Pip. "I'm like a cat, getting up here was easy. Getting down again? Not so much."

"Jump, I'll catch you," suggested Morgan cheekily. There was a thud and a loud "oof". "Hell, I didn't expect you to actually do it."

"You caught me, didn't you? Quit complaining, it was your idea, not mine," retorted Pip. "Boss, I'm down, we're moving on."

The rest of the team continued their search of the upper floors of the house. In one of the bedrooms, Reid unearthed a couple of old journals in a desk drawer, which he immediately sat down to read. Rossi and Seaver ransacked the rest of the cupboards in case there was anything else that might be useful, while JJ examined the walls and floor for any hint of more hidden things.

"Rossi, we've found cages," crackled Morgan's voice over the comms. "Looks like it was where the victims were held. There's two young boys in here," There was a pause. "Harker says they're Romanian, same regional dialect as the encrypted voicemail Garcia found."

"Kids?" asked Rossi in surprise. He exchanged shocked glances with Reid, who was already staring into middle distance, mentally reviewing everything they knew to see how they'd missed the presence of children in the enterprise. "We never profiled they'd…"

"Rossi, there's van just pulled up outside," said JJ from the window. "Two people, headed for the barn."

Rossi grit his teeth and joined JJ peering out the somewhat grimy vantage point. The UnSubs weren't ahead of them, they were _right there_ , and they were in the barn too. It was all going hopelessly wrong in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. "Morgan, Harker, there's two UnSubs approaching your position. See if you can get the kids out and then stay out of sight. We're coming."

Rossi turned away from the window. "Damn. Reid, call the sheriff. JJ, take Reid and go around the side if we have to go in, see if that second entrance is usable. Seaver, you're with me through the front. Get ready to move."

Rossi regretted his choice as soon as Seaver's eyes lit up. The decision was nothing to do with her, not really. He just wanted both Reid and Seaver paired with a stronger agent and in the moment, it hadn't occurred to him to put himself with Reid.

Damn Hotch for being in Afghanistan! Sooner he got back, the better.

"Just us? Rossi, we've got no backup," demurred JJ as Reid hung up with the sheriff. Rossi checked his reactions. If JJ thought he was overreacting because it was Pip in that barn, then maybe he was. Maybe they should wait.

"Sheriff is fifteen minutes out," Reid reported.

"Rossi?" asked JJ. "Shouldn't we wait and…"

Rossi was already nodding his agreement, but anything else JJ might have said was cut off by the sound of a gunshot, quickly followed by two more.

"Fuck!" yelled Rossi, already running out the door, trusting the rest of the team to follow him. "Go!"

"Seaver, behind me," he ordered as they approached the warehouse. JJ and Reid ducked down the side of the building as instructed, while he and Seaver eased through the door the two suspects had left open. Morgan hadn't been kidding. The place was a chaotic mess of shelving and boxes stacked high, scattered with rusty farm equipment, filing cabinets and even what looked like an old moonshine still. There was little to no light, the old skylights filthy enough as to be useless. Even in the middle of the day, it would have been gloomy. In the fading twilight, it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

Rossi tapped Seaver on the shoulder and gestured to the broken skylight Pip had mentioned. She nodded and followed him as he started in that direction, weaving his way through the obstacles. Rossi used his flashlight sparingly, not wanting to give away their position.

Another shot rang out, starting a short exchange of gunfire that sounded like it was off to their right. Rossi took the right fork at a three-way intersection of junk, heading deeper into the maze, Seaver close behind him.

Minutes that could have been hours passed as they made their way round and through tunnels of assorted clutter. Rossi halted as they heard Pip shout out an order in what he assumed was Romanian. He recognised the tone, even if he couldn't understand the words, that voice of command had been aimed at him more than once. There was a gruffly masculine laugh and a response that sounded mocking. Pip replied in the same manner, but she sounded like she'd moved. She was getting closer. Rossi sped up, rounded a corner and came face to face with Morgan holding a scruffy young boy.

"Seaver, get him out of here," whispered Rossi, hurriedly gesturing to the child. She nodded and took the boy from Morgan's arms and darted back the way they'd come. "Where's P…where's Harker?"

"Back that way somewhere with the other kid, we split up when they opened fire," whispered Morgan back. "One's down, I don't know where the other one is. They seem to know the layout, and we don't."

They crept onward, eyes and ears open for signs of movement. The sound of a scuffed boot heel led them down a different aisle which petered out to a dead end. They backtracked and took another path, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Rossi cursed their bad luck. Hunt the UnSub on his home turf was _not_ what he'd had in mind for their little foray.

The sudden sound of running feet very close by halted their movements. Through a tiny gap between a stack of dead washing machines and what appeared to be an ancient industrial printing press, Rossi could see it was Pip, another boy in her arms. She cast a quick look behind her as if she were being chased.

Before Rossi could call out to her, a shot rang out, knocking her from her feet. As she landed, Pip threw the boy as far away from her as possible, sliding him along the floor with the last of their conjoined momentum. The boy skidded to a stop practically at Rossi's feet. The space underneath the press was too small for either Rossi or Morgan to get through, but he could. He took one look at their FBI emblazoned vests and squirmed through the gap, latching himself onto Morgan like a limpet.

"Om rau," he muttered, burying his face in Morgan's chest. "Om rau."

"The other one said that too. Harker said it meant "bad men"," muttered Morgan.

Having seen Pip go down to a bullet, what the boy said was the last thing on Rossi's mind, even though he knew she was wearing a vest.

"Get him out, I'll find JJ and Reid," ordered Rossi, although he knew he'd only come across JJ and Reid if they were heading towards Pip, like he was.

Morgan nodded and started retracing his steps with the boy. Rossi went on, looking for a way to Pip. He ran into JJ and Reid, who'd had an equally frustrating time trying to navigate towards the sound of gunfire through the warren of haphazardly stored stuff. Rossi stopped, looking up. The skylight nearest Pip had been two east and one north the broken one, which meant it had to be…that way. They set off again.

They turned a corner to find Pip laying on the ground, eyes closed and unmoving. There was no rise and fall of her chest to indicate she was breathing. The suspect stood over her, aiming his .45 at her head as he rattled off a threatening-sounding speech in Romanian.

"FBI! Drop your weapon!" Rossi shouted, echoed by Reid and JJ behind him. Luckily, that echo helped conceal the panic in his voice. She was wearing a vest, she couldn't be dead, oh please God don't let her be dead…

The UnSub glanced up at them, then fell to the ground screaming as Pip's round went through his calf.

Pip sat up a bit and cold cocked him with her gun. "Shut up, asshole," she spat irritably, before laying back down next to the unconscious UnSub with a groan. "Ow."

"Pip!" Her name just slipped out, but he couldn't help it. Rossi dashed to her side. "Are you alright?"

Pip struggled to her feet, hauling herself up using the arm he offered her. She yanked her hand out of his and started to strip off her Kevlar with a series of pained winces.

"Took your fucking time. Have you _any_ idea how hard it is to play dead for that long after taking one in the vest?" she complained as she fought with the Velcro straps. "Have you seen the fucking size of this?" she asked disgustedly, pointing to the flattened slug embedded in the vest, low down on her left side. Rossi flushed cold. Three inches lower and it would have missed the vest and hit _her_. Three inches lower and she really could have been dead.

Having battled her way out of it, Pip held up the vest to examine the slug a little closer. "What was he using, a fucking cannon?"

Rossi grabbed her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he repeated.

Pip batted his hands away irritably. "No thanks to you! Besides," she threw her vest at him, "this was all your idea in the first place." She paused, delaying the final word so it could be delivered in as crushingly condescending tone as possible. " _Sir_."

Pip stalked off, holding her side as if it pained her. Having already given more away than he'd ever hoped to, Rossi knew he couldn't follow her. He made desperate eye contact with JJ, who nodded and came forward to put an arm round Pip and lead her away in search of medical treatment. Pip leaned gratefully into the contact, proof enough that she was in more pain that she'd let on.

Rossi turned away from Reid's questioning gaze to cuff the now-groaning suspect, who was starting to come around. He would need treatment too, Pip had caught him a good one across the temple, enough to draw blood.

"Keep still and shut up," he snarled in the dirty ear as the UnSub started to struggle. "I'm having a _really_ bad day, and pissing me off may just be the last thing you ever do." Whether the man understood the words was debatable, but he definitely understood the tone of voice and stopped moving.

Rossi clinched the cuffs closed a little tighter than strictly necessary. "Get this waste of skin a medic," he called out to Reid, tucking the suspect's gun in the back of his pants.

Rossi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Hell of a day," he muttered to himself. It had been, and it wasn't over yet.


	9. Om Rau Part 2

_Om Rau Part 2_

 _ **Problems and misfortunes along the way can be forgotten as long as the end is satisfactory – Romanian proverb**_

They found what they needed in the barn, more than enough. Enough to be sure the local Morgan had shot dead and his remaining, if somewhat groggy, Romanian accomplice were behind the kidnappings. The local had a small haulage firm and had planned to branch out into human trafficking. The Romanian was their serial killer, the budding entrepreneur having found the sole person travelling through his community who'd rather kill than sell the woman they'd taken.

Pip avoided Rossi for what was left of the rest of the day. She'd been seen to by the town's doctor, who reported a single cracked rib and an a relatively insignificant head wound, as well as a severe case of bad temper to go with her bruises. He'd given her a shot of local anaesthetic, which looked like it had already worn off. JJ ran interference, always with a question or comment that pulled Rossi away from his instinctive gravitation towards the woman he loved.

The one place she couldn't avoid him was the interrogation, the UnSub refusing to speak with Rossi in English, demanding instead to talk through the woman responsible for the three stitches on his forehead and the hole in his leg. Pip stood stiffly behind her boss, out of eyeline and repeated the UnSub's evasive words tonelessly, translating Rossi's increasingly frustrated questions in the same manner. At least, until the UnSub piped up with an unprompted comment aimed at her, rather than Rossi, which she ignored.

"What did he say to you?" asked Rossi, turning in his seat a little to look at her.

"He asked me why I don't like you very much, sir. Says it's a shame I look so sour, since I'm not bad looking. Said he'd like to carve his mark in my skin, like the others."

"Tell him if he lays a finger on any of my Agents, I'll chop it off," growled Rossi, angry at the clear threat aimed at her.

Pip did so and had to suppress a smirk at the reply.

"Well?" asked Rossi impatiently when she failed to respond once more.

Pip cleared her throat. "It doesn't translate well, sir. Not literally anyway."

"Try," he growled.

"He told you to go ride the blue horse."

Rossi frowned. "What? What the hell does that mean?"

"It's a colloquialism, sir," replied Pip. "He's describing a distasteful sexual act you could perform with a dead…"

"Enough!" Rossi waved a hand to stop her. "I get the picture, Harker, thank you," he spat irritably.

"You asked, sir." Any other time, that would have sounded cheeky. In her robotic monotone, it was simply a statement of fact.

Much as he hated it, that little exchange gave Rossi his opening. The tenuous rapport between Pip and the UnSub over their mutual dislike of him, allowed Rossi to pry into the hows and whys of the crime. Even though it made his skin crawl having Pip tell him all the gory details of what their lowlife had done.

When the interview was over, Rossi had hoped to speak to her, but was accosted by the sheriff wishing to express his gratitude. Pip slipped away.

It was late by the time they'd pulled everything together, and after a quick show of hands, it was decided they'd brave the Sunset Lodge one more night, rather than drive to Birmingham in the dark and not get home until early hours of the morning. Better to sleep and take the short flight home in the daylight.

Rossi knew that JJ and Seaver had been sharing a double room, and that he and Morgan had taken the last twin, leaving Reid in the only available single room at the motel. In order to have a bed for the night, Pip had convinced the owners, in her own inimitable fashion, that it really was an emergency. They'd booted out the chambermaid and given her room to Pip for the night, while the maid went back into town to stay with a friend. With that in mind, Rossi waited until Morgan started snoring and tiptoed out and across the lot to where Pip was sleeping. He tapped on the door to the darkened room and lingered somewhat furtively in the shadows.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked Seaver sleepily, as she opened the door.

Rossi's stomach dropped like a stone. He should have anticipated it, and consumed with his preoccupation with Pip's well-being, he'd not given it a second thought. He should have known Pip would turn to JJ. Of all people, it had to be Seaver that Pip had swapped with, didn't it? The one person practically _guaranteed_ to misunderstand why he'd knocked on her door in the middle of the night. If it wasn't for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all.

"I was looking for Harker. Just wanted to make sure she's alright after getting shot at."

He couldn't help it. He was human, he was a red-blooded Italian male and he'd only had sex once in the last fortnight, after three weeks of at least once, if not twice a day. Rossi's gaze dropped down to the tiny sleepwear item Seaver was almost wearing. Nice pair of…

Rossi's eyes shot upwards to meet hers, dismayed to find she'd caught him. A smile started to develop on her startled face.

Oh God. Just when he'd thought his day couldn't get any worse. The ground inconveniently failed to open up and swallow him whole.

"Sorry, I…er, I'm going." Rossi spun about-face so sharply he could almost hear his RSM bellowing orders in his ear. "See you in the morning."

She said something as he strode back across the lot, but he couldn't make it out, and didn't acknowledge it.

Two doors down from the room Rossi was sharing with Morgan, was the one JJ had been sharing with Seaver, and there was a light on. Feeling a little less confident in his actions since he knew there'd be an audience, Rossi hesitated before knocking.

JJ answered, as he'd known she would. Her eyes were red as if she'd been crying. "Can I help you, Rossi? It's practically the middle of the night."

Rossi's gaze flicked up and over her shoulder to the partial view of Pip sitting on the double bed behind her.

"I just wanted to see if she's ok."

"What do you think?" said JJ sharply. "That asshole had a .45, she looks like she got kicked by a horse. She's just lucky the shot wasn't straight on."

"That's not what I meant," replied Rossi softly. The sound of sniffling and what could have been a sob reached his ears and Rossi met JJ's eyes as a weary look flashed across her face. She pulled the door closed a fraction, and his partial view of chestnut hair was cut off.

"JJ, if she's…I need to…" Completely unable to articulate what he meant, Rossi decided to abandon his dignity and settled on begging. "Please?"

JJ shook her head, with a quick glance backward as if to double-check that was the right choice. "Dave…" JJ gently but firmly pushed him away. "Let me handle this. Go back to bed." She closed the door.

Rossi contemplated the closed door for a moment before turning away and making his way back to the room he shared with Morgan. Morgan was still honking, so Rossi settled down on top on his lumpy bed and idly made imaginary shapes in the stains on the ceiling until daylight arrived.

* * *

Pip looked as tired as he did when they regrouped at the SUVs in the morning. JJ and Morgan volunteered to drive back to Birmingham as the rest of the team scrambled to load their gear.

Rossi pointedly sat himself in the back seat of the vehicle JJ had chosen, hoping Pip would take the front. Instead, Seaver leapt in beside him in the back, all secretive smiles and bright eyes. Rossi groaned softly and caught JJ's glance in the rear view. JJ winked at him and seemed to ignore his silent plea for help.

Pip opened the passenger door and caught sight of Rossi and Seaver in the back. She raised an eyebrow at his expression and exchanged a glance with JJ that Rossi couldn't interpret.

"I'll ride with Morgan and Reid," she muttered, slamming the door shut and walking slowly in the direction of the other SUV.

Rossi closed his eyes and leaned back with a silent exhalation of frustration. He wondered whether it would be too obvious for him to take the front passenger seat to get away from the young blonde sat _far_ too close, given how much room they had in the back.

"Rossi come sit up front, you know how good I am with the satnav," offered JJ. "We'll miss the flight if I navigate."

"Thank you," he whispered over the sound of the engine starting.

"Pip mentioned you had a fan," whispered JJ back, and laughed at his indignant expression as they pulled out of the dusty parking lot.

Pip was smiling and talking with Reid as they boarded the jet, chattering away in a foreign language. She was walking carefully and carrying herself stiffly, but seemed in a far better mood.

"Next time man, you can drive those two," commented Morgan as he threw himself down in a seat. "Five minutes of awkward silence, then somehow they realise they both speak Russian. I've had two hours of traditional Russian folktales, _in Russian_ , and now I'm ready to hang myself. I can't take it anymore."

Rossi laughed, the smile falling a little when JJ and Reid boxed Pip in at the table, away from him. Reid had no idea what he'd done, he was just keen to continue chatting with her. JJ knew exactly what she was doing and Rossi barely managed to squeeze himself in next to Morgan before Seaver parked herself opposite. The faintly disappointed look told him that she'd been hoping to sit next to him.

Having not had a lot of sleep the night before, Rossi dozed during the short flight home. He was only vaguely aware of the others teasing Pip for working, and of Seaver taking Morgan's place beside him when he sparked up a card game with Reid.

The AST swarmed the team as they arrived back, giving Pip the welcome of a triumphant returning hero. They drew back a little when they realised she was injured, and three sets of accusing eyes swung Rossi's way.

Morgan clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I wouldn't ask for help with your filing for a while, Rossi." He chuckled and sat down at his desk. "I don't think they're impressed you stole and then damaged their boss."

That was an understatement. The reproachful stares followed Rossi all the way to his office and then bored a hole right through the wall. Right about level with his temple it seemed, no matter where he moved.

Ten minutes later, Phillips appeared in front of him as if by teleport. The man certainly could move stealthily when he wanted to, or perhaps, Rossi decided, his mind was on other things. One thing, one _person_ in particular, someone who didn't seem to have forgiven him for just doing his job.

"Agent Harker's report, sir," Phillips said stiffly, holding out a neat file. "Thought I'd save her the trouble."

Phillips was turning in Pip's prelim report so his wounded boss didn't have to walk the perfectly completed form up herself. Rossi glanced out his window. Pip had her head down, but Griffin and Duffy caught his movement in their peripheral vision and looked up to observe him critically. Rossi looked away, feeling rather like a specimen in a jar.

"Thank you, Phillips," Rossi said. "Is she ok?" he asked warily. He and Phillips worked well together, or at least, had until then. Despite the chilly atmosphere between them currently, Rossi felt safe in at least asking Phillips how Pip was.

"As well as can be expected, sir," said Phillips coldly. "If that's all, sir?"

He was out the door before Rossi could respond, and Rossi darted after him, catching him on the walkway.

"Phillips…"

Phillips stopped, arms folded. "Yes, sir?"

"I just…" Rossi stopped as out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pip double over in pain. He took an automatic step forwards, only to be halted by Phillips standing in his way. Despite Rossi beating Phillips both in height and weight, the wiry man stood his ground. Somehow, he filled the walkway, preventing Rossi from getting past. Rossi turned to find Duffy looming ominously behind him, mobile roadblock that he was. How on earth had the big man managed that? The guy all but generated his own gravity field, it wasn't like you could really miss him when he was in motion, but somehow Rossi had done exactly that.

Helplessly, Rossi could only watch as Griffin put his arm round Pip. "Boss?" the young man asked.

Pip spoke to him, so quietly Rossi couldn't hear.

"Sarge?" called Griffin. He made a twirling gesture in the air with one hand, a sign that Rossi recognised as the AST signal for the end-of-case paperwork. "Wrap and close? I'll take the boss home if you show Hank how to post the ledger for me."

Phillips nodded and turned back to Rossi. "It seems we have some paperwork to complete together, sir. Why don't you go back in your office? I'll bring it up in a moment." The former SFPD sergeant wouldn't meet Rossi's eyes, staring instead at a point just an inch above his right shoulder. It was a trick Rossi had used himself, on more than one occasion, usually to avoid giving a superior officer a filthy glower that would have resulted in a reprimand.

Rossi glanced behind him again at the frowning figure of Duffy, who was usually as threatening as a child gently cradling a kitten, and gave in. With one last forlorn look at Pip, on her slow way to the elevator with Griffin, he ducked back in his office to wait for Phillips with that part of the bureaucracy that couldn't wait.

* * *

It was four hours later that Rossi managed to escape. Phillips had kept him occupied far longer than strictly necessary, Rossi was sure he'd dragged the work out deliberately. Then Strauss had accosted him in the hallway with nowhere to hide.

He wasn't sure which was worse: the open condemnation from the AST for getting their boss hurt, or the fact that he was now Strauss's date for the upcoming FBI Summer Gala. He couldn't take Pip as his date, and Strauss knew it. Attendance was mandatory, and knowing what she knew about his clandestine relationship meant he couldn't refuse when she asked, much as he wanted to. Rossi could have sworn she enjoyed herself, watching him squirm over that. Her definition of leeway with the rules apparently came with conditions, that particular brand of torture being one of them. He'd gone to these dreadful dinners without a date before, but going with Strauss was exponentially ghastlier than turning up alone.

Pip hadn't picked up all three times he'd phoned – twice on her cell and once on her landline, which was how Rossi found himself knocking on her door for the first time in years. He had a key, standard behaviour by then was to waltz in and make himself comfortable. After what had happened in Alabama, he thought he ought to knock.

There was a series of pained grunts, then the door eased open.

"Oh," said Pip. "It's you." She turned away, making her way back to the sofa and sitting down carefully. She picked up a bag of frozen peas next to her and held it against her side. "You've got a key, I'm sure you didn't _actually_ need me to get up while in pain to open the door for you."

So he'd got it wrong, he should have used his key. Rossi had the feeling that no matter what he said or did, it would probably be wrong.

He closed the door behind him and hovered uncertainly. "I called you. Before. To see if it was ok to come over." Maybe she had been asleep and hadn't realised. "You didn't answer."

"Yeah, I know. I watched my cell ring."

Oh. That was even more crushing than if she'd just missed the calls and not returned them.

"Pip…"

"Until Agent Hotchner is back, you're the boss. If you're going to pull another stunt like yesterday, I think it's best if we cool it, don't you? _Sir_?"

It felt like the world had dropped away from his feet. Rossi ran a hand down over his goatee and then up and through his hair with a sigh.

"You want me to leave?" he asked, desperately hoping she'd say no.

Pip considered him long enough that Rossi worried that the answer really would be yes. Then she nodded towards the kitchen.

"Pour yourself a brew. You look like you need it, you look fucking awful."

"Thanks," muttered Rossi, moving in the direction of the kitchen. He didn't particularly want her high-powered coffee that time of the afternoon, but he was just relieved that she hadn't thrown him out. Not to mention that a couple of minutes to himself to work out a way forward was probably a good idea.

"You want one?" he called, trying to quell the roiling in his stomach. If she ended it, after everything they'd been through, over one decision…

"Only if you're going to doctor it," replied Pip.

Rossi threw sugar in another mug and topped it up with coffee, leaving space for the booze.

He presented it to her, along with the bottle. "I figured I'd let you self-medicate, I'd only get that wrong too."

Pip tutted dismissively. "Self-pity doesn't suit you."

"What do you expect? Between you, JJ and your entire team, I feel like I'm the bad guy," retorted Rossi. He perched himself in his usual position on the sofa and felt the tension in his body ease slightly. Her sofa was _wonderful_.

"I never wanted to be back in the field."

That was the crux of it. Pip hadn't wanted to be in the field even before she'd been reactivated and sent overseas, and everything had just snowballed from there. She'd barely recovered and she'd had to do it again, this time in Europe, to pay a debt. She'd barely got home from that before _he'd_ dragged her into the field again, where she'd got injured. Rossi sighed.

"I know." What else could he say? Only a few days ago, he'd told her he didn't want her in the field either.

"So you can see why I'm more than a little pissed off about it all?" Pip reached forward carefully, not carefully enough to conceal the wince of pain. She spun the top off the bottle with finger and thumb, took two gulps of coffee and refilled the half empty coffee mug to the rim with whisky.

"I can. It's not _all_ my fault though." Some of it might be, not that he'd had a choice in the matter.

"I know," she sighed. "You're just the nearest one I can blame. I do think we ought to ease off until you're no longer my boss though," added Pip into the silence that developed.

"I don't think I can do that," disputed Rossi. "In fact, I'm sure I can't. I'm…I'm not _right_ unless you're with me. I don't mean always being within ten feet of you, I mean knowing you're there. I can't go back to what we were, I just can't."

Pip took a deep mouthful of her drink. "We always knew it would change things. I resisted for so long, for this exact reason. With what you do, with who I was. It always looked destined to end badly, one way or another."

"But it _hasn't_ ," insisted Rossi. "I had an impossible choice and went with the option I knew would work. You'll forgive me eventually and Hotch will come back from Afghanistan. We'll come through the other side and laugh in years to come, about how Phillips can move like a ninja and how Duffy can be quite intimidating when he wants to be."

"You're very sure of yourself," commented Pip drily, taking another slurp from her mug.

"I've had a long time to build this ego," he said with a smile, hoping for one in return.

Pip let out a laugh that turned into a pained groan. "Don't make me laugh," she gasped. "Hurts."

Rossi's smile dropped from his face like it had been pushed off a cliff. "Sorry."

"Oh, stop it. I can't stand any more of you moping about like a kicked dog." Pip's hand reached for his and Rossi finally relaxed. He would be forgiven. "Besides, I had my payback when I left you with Seaver for the drive back to Birmingham."

Rossi gaped. "You did that deliberately?" he asked accusingly.

Pip smirked. "Of course I did. The look on your face was priceless. Sort of a combination between pissed off and terrified. I've never seen a man look so unhappy at the prospect of sitting next to a pretty girl."

"She's not you," muttered Rossi and Pip squeezed his hand gently. "JJ let me sit in the front with her."

"She's far more forgiving than I am," commented Pip, taking another gulp of her doctored coffee.

"I got an accidental eyeful last night, and it's made things worse," he admitted, wanting to get the worst out of the way quickly. Pip undoubtedly wouldn't be impressed that he'd ogled another woman's assets, so Rossi figured it was best to tell her now, before she found out some other way. "I knocked on the wrong door last night, didn't occur to me right away that you'd swap to share with JJ."

Pip snorted so hard that whisky-laced coffee shot out of her nose. She laughed heartily, tears of pain in her eyes. "Oh…oh my god…" She dissolved into laughter again, clutching her side. "That's…oh dear…I told you not to make me laugh," she gasped, wiping her eyes and face. "Oh…that just makes you sharing the ride back with her so much more worthwhile."

Rossi chuckled and decided he owed Seaver some backhanded thanks, if only for putting the smile back on Pip's face. "You don't mind that I…um…"

"Inadvertently peered down her nightdress? I'm assuming that's what happened, rather than Seaver flashing you deliberately," said Pip, still suppressing the sniggers. "She isn't that brave, not yet. Window shopping is free, Dave." She raised her eyes to his, the threat of retribution clear, despite the mirth still dancing there. "Touching the merchandise isn't."

Rossi draped a careful arm around her, relieved when she eased into him, carefully shifting so she was comfortable. "No chance of that. I may have a checkered past as far as women are concerned, but I never cheated on any of them and I don't intend to start now. Besides, I'm rather proud of what I've got."

"Proud?" Pip's confusion was clear.

"Damn right I'm proud of you," insisted Rossi. "How many other guys know their girl can take on an armed mob and make them laugh, while threatening to circumcise one of their number? I nearly shit a brick when I saw the guy draw a weapon, but I trusted you'd handle it, and you did."

That time, he'd said exactly the right thing. Pip stroked his leg and flashed him a loving glance, before shuffling carefully forward on the sofa, out of the reach of his arm.

"I need a clean top," she said in response to his questioning look, indicating the coffee spread across the one she was wearing.

Rossi stood quickly. "Let me get one for you. You stay there."

"I've got to move some time," disagreed Pip, using him to pull herself up off the sofa. "I've been putting off going for a wee for the last twenty minutes. If I don't go soon, it'll be too late. But if you want to put the peas back in the freezer before I completely defrost them, that would be great."

Rossi rolled his eyes and picked up the impromptu icepack she'd been using. "I'll still fetch you a clean top."

The peas safely stowed away, Rossi rummaged out some clean clothing for her while Pip used the bathroom. He found a old button-up shirt soft with age and decided that would be better than trying to get something over her head.

Pip was standing waiting for him when Rossi emerged from her bedroom. He stopped dead, the shirt in his hand fluttering to the floor. She'd struggled out of her soggy top without his help and now he could finally see the damage. He'd seen her battered and bruised before, but her current state was something else.

Pip had a bruise the size of a dinner plate across her side. The top half centred over the cracked rib, the colours still blooming and darkening. Above and below that, were thick strips of bruising. One ran around her waist just above her hip, and one above the broken rib, where the impact of the shot had smashed her vest into the straps of her knife belts. Those strips were already a dark purple, deepening to almost black. The effect was almost an upper-case H on its side, the edges rounded and overstated.

"Fucking hellfire," he swore, unable to take his eyes off spectacular bruise.

"Quite impressive, huh?" said Pip, peering down at it. "It's still coming out, I'm going to be all colours of the rainbow by tomorrow."

Rossi paused while bending down to pick up the shirt. "What are you chewing?" he asked curiously.

"Aspirin," replied Pip, with a grimace at the bitter taste.

"But chewing them?" he asked, moving closer to look at the bruising properly.

"Makes them work faster," she muttered. Pip averted her eyes with a touch of embarrassment when he glanced up. "Bad habit from the old days," she clarified. "Aspirin isn't going to touch it really, but it's the strongest thing I keep in stock. Apart from the booze."

Knowing she was in pain and unable to take anything strong enough to dull it was like a body blow, one to match the one he'd felt when the shot had felled her in the first place.

"Pip, I'm so sorry."

She laid a hand on his arm. "I know. It'll heal." She tugged on the shirt in his grasp. "You going to help me on with that or am I going to stand here all afternoon half dressed?"

"I happen to like you half dressed," Rossi said with a smile, helping her into the garment. He hugged her gently, wary of causing more pain than she was already in. "Come home with me," he suggested softly. "I want you where I can keep an eye on you. I need know you're alright…"

"Ok."

"…Mudgie's old now, my housekeeper's gone home and I can't leave him on his own overnight any more. I can't stay here, and…what did you say?"

Pip smiled and pulled him down for a brief aspirin-flavoured kiss. "I said ok."

* * *

"What if I'm faced with the same decision again?" Rossi asked, craning his neck awkwardly to look up at her sitting up against the headboard. Sleeping laying down was out for the next few weeks at least, and Pip had made the most of medical advice by commandeering all but one of his pillows. "What if there's no way to avoid it?" Like there hadn't been in Alabama.

They'd avoided the subject all evening, Rossi entertaining her instead with a rather embellished version of his conversation with Strauss about the Gala. He was aware he'd been uncharacteristically clingy, just reassuring himself she was ok. He'd repacked her backpack with as many changes of clothes as would fit, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was staying with him until she healed. He'd bought her favourite ice cream. He'd even stopped on the way home at a 24-hour locksmith and had a copy of his house keys cut for her. He'd cooked and waited on her all afternoon. They'd had a rather pleasant evening, all things considered, but Rossi needed to have that one question answered before he could sleep.

Pip looked down at him. "You'll give me an hour to find an alternative before _ordering_ me to do it."

"Is that what this was all about?" he asked carefully. He propped himself up on one elbow to look at her properly. "Me giving you an order?"

"Dave, you're the Unit Chief," replied Pip exasperatedly. "Once you tell me or anyone else to do something, we do it. End of. That's what being the boss _means_. You'd already made up your mind when you called me and the possibility of another option didn't even cross your mind, did it?"

It hadn't. Which was why he didn't play much chess. Two moves ahead was the extent of his skill, and even though Rossi was the one who taught him to play, that was how Gideon had always beaten him. Hotch couldn't come home soon enough. Interrogation, negotiation, that was what he excelled at. Not that kind of operational planning, as evidenced by the out-of-control crowd in Alabama. He was too direct, too quick to move, preferring to bluster his way through the consequences than always take the time to avoid them.

That had included affairs of the heart too, until Pip had come along, anyway. As with everything else about her, she made him break all his own rules.

"No," Rossi admitted. "It didn't. After two days of nothing but frustration, I saw an easy answer to a problem in front of me. You never tried to tell me there was another option."

"You never gave me a chance," she disputed.

"I never expected you to leap at my command. You don't normally." Rossi sighed. "Why don't you treat me the same as you always have? I mean, it's nice to know you actually have manners, I'm just not used to you using them on me." He shook his head. "Confused the hell out of me."

"Glad it's not just me that felt weird about it," muttered Pip.

"No, it wasn't," he agreed, "and while you're busy being your usual insulting self, you can tell me to pull my head out of my ass occasionally if you see something I don't. I know you've done it to Hotch, why not with me?"

"I can do that," she offered.

"And I can promise you, if I have to make that call again, I'll listen if you say no."

Pip grinned at him. "Did we just have our first official fight?" she asked cheekily.

Puzzled, Rossi frowned uncertainly. "Yes, I think this qualifies," he said slowly. "Why?"

"I hear make-up sex is amazing."

"That might have to wait a bit I think," said Rossi with a smirk, leaning up to kiss her gently. "At least until you can breathe without flinching." Unfortunately.

He reached over to the bedside table, remembering something he'd wanted to give her before work had got in the way once more. "This is for you," he said, handing her a small box wrapped with a bow and leaning back on his elbow to watch her open it.

The look Pip gave him was part hope yet mostly panic, and Rossi immediately caught the direction of her thoughts.

"You asked me to look after him for you," he added hurriedly. In other words, it wasn't a ring. The flash of hope on her face had been interesting, but she clearly wasn't ready for that. He was a lot further down the road than she was, and he'd need to wait for her to catch up. Convincing her to move in with him would have to come first.

Pip took the box from his hand. "Winston?" she asked curiously.

Rossi nodded. She hadn't been able to keep _all_ the relief from her voice. _Definitely_ not ready. First thing tomorrow, he'd better hide that catalogue properly.

Pip ripped off the bow and opened the box. Winston sat securely on a little carved wooden plinth inside a sturdy glass enclosure. A tiny brass nameplate was screwed to the plinth, simply with "Winston" written on it in cursive script similar to Pip's own. It was simple, yet tasteful, and beautifully crafted. He should know, it had cost him a fair bit to get it made so quickly.

"Dave, it's beautiful!" Pip exclaimed. Happy tears pooled in her eyes. "Oh, this is so much better than what I had in mind, thank you!" She smiled, and two tears rolled down her face as she pulled him up to her level for a kiss. "He's going to live on my desk, I think. Pride of place." Pip scrubbed her face with one hand. "Oh, look at me," she sniffed, "hard-nosed bitch all emotional over an unspent round."

"You're not a bitch," protested Rossi with a grin.

Pip whacked him playfully on the arm. "You're supposed to say I'm not hard-nosed either," she said with a chuckle that brought another wince. "Ah, fuck that hurts. I'm going to get _really_ bored of this, _really_ quickly."

"I can imagine," said Rossi with a smirk, "and because of that, you're going to be short-tempered, ruthlessly domineering, bossy, argumentative, insulting…oh wait," he grinned at her, "its ok, no one will ever notice."

Pip yanked the pillow out from under his head, hit him with it, and then held it against her side as she laughed. "Bastard," she said when she could breathe again. "That hurt." But she was smiling.

Rossi leaned over to kiss her briefly. "I wouldn't have you any other way," he reassured her.

Pip hit him round the back of the head with the pillow. "Still a bastard."

He kissed her once more, this time putting everything he had into it. Pip hummed in the back of her throat and dropped the pillow to pull him closer. Rossi eased back, rather reluctantly. "We can't get carried away," he said softly, pressing one final butterfly kiss to her lips. "Not for a fortnight. Doctor's orders."

Pip groaned and let go of him. "Bugger the doctor, and bugger his orders," she complained. "I'll give it a week, tops. If you haven't followed up on that kiss by then, you're going to wake up one morning to me having my wicked way you."

Rossi grinned. Now _there_ was an alarm clock he'd actually enjoy. "I'm going to take you up on that offer. But not for at least two weeks," he added sternly.

"One."

Rossi retrieved his pillow and lay back down, turning off the bedside light. "Go to sleep, you incorrigible woman."

"One," muttered Pip in the darkness.

"Two. At least."

" _One_ ," she insisted. "Even if you can wait that long, I can't."

"Two. Sleep, _bella_."

Pip snuggled under the covers as best she could while sat upright. Just at the point of sleep Rossi heard her mutter, "one." He grinned. She always had to have the last word.

* * *

 _A/n: For those of you who'd like to know what JJ and Pip were talking about, check out the first chapter of Criminal Minds: Missing Conversations._


	10. Black and Blue

_Black and Blue_

 _ **Nobody sees anybody truly but all through the flaws of their own egos. That is the way we all see each other in life - Tennessee Williams**_

"FBI! Freeze!" yelled Rossi, weapon trained on the hooded intruder.

The suspect took one look at him and promptly dived out the living room window.

Rossi sighed. "Just once," he grumbled as he and JJ stared at the empty space their best lead had just occupied. "Just _once_ , I'd like that to work."

JJ let out a laugh and followed Rossi as he ran back out of the house. They glanced around, trying to work out where their suspect had gone.

JJ spotted him first and dashed off down the side alley their quarry had taken, Rossi just behind her. "Morgan! Suspect heading east along back alleys!" he shouted into his mic. "Try and head him off, JJ and I are in pursuit."

"Still five minutes out," replied Morgan tersely.

Rossi growled. Without Hotch, Reid deciding to take a sabbatical and Seaver transferring to Andi Swann's unit, trying to do the job with just the three of them was a pain in the ass. Even if it was a relief not having to see Seaver's sad doe eyes and faintly hurt expression whenever he turned around too fast. He'd sat her down the morning after they got back from Alabama to apologise for his inappropriate action, making it clear that he had no interest in what she was clearly offering. Two days later, she was gone, simply finishing her report on Alabama and hightailing it out of the BAU. Swann was lucky to have her, but Rossi was just relieved to have escaped without Strauss catching wind of what had happened.

They lost sight of their suspect briefly in the twists and turns and faced with a 50/50 chance of getting it wrong, JJ turned right at the end of the alley, Rossi turned left. He rounded the corner into a tatty and untended back yard, just in time to see the suspect vault a waist-high chain link fence into another garden.

"JJ! This way!" Rossi shouted, setting off in pursuit again. "I'm too old for this shit," he complained as he scrambled first over the chain link, then a locked garden gate. JJ bounded after him like a gazelle, making it look easy.

They followed the man in a hoodie down another back alley, then out onto the main street. Rossi breathed a sigh of relief, even as he was still running. At least there'd be no more fences to climb. "Morgan, he's going south on the five hundred block of Main," he panted over the comms channel.

"Nearly there," replied Morgan. "Coming up on the intersection. Ninety seconds."

Rossi had glanced up to check where they'd emerged onto the main street, so JJ had a split second longer to spot the delivery guy ambling his way casually out of a store, trundling a dolly truck stacked high with boxes in front of him. JJ darted sideways, ducking around it. Rossi collided with what felt like a concrete wall, knocking the poor man to the ground, along with his truck. The boxes flew every which way and Rossi landed awkwardly across the truck's handles. One dug painfully into his right thigh, the other into his left hip as he hit the ground with a heart-breaking crunch.

At the intersection up ahead, Morgan had their suspect in custody, already cuffing him. JJ trotted back to Rossi, who was struggling upright, heaving for breath and clutching the sad remains of his cell phone.

"Rossi? You ok?" she asked, concerned.

Rossi nodded, wiping sweat from his eyes. He'd been better, sure, but at least the only casualty was his cell. JJ's eyes followed his hand and Rossi realised absently that it wasn't sweat running down his face when he saw the blood on his sleeve. Oh. Maybe that was why everything was a bit…

"Don't tell Pip," he mumbled as his knees came unhinged. JJ grabbed his arm to slow his fall, but all that achieved was Rossi dragging her down with him.

* * *

He heard her coming, long before he could see her. Pip had a particular way with words when she was pissed off, and she was unleashing her vocabulary on whoever it had been to have the misfortune of trying to stop her. Rossi groaned and levered himself upright. So much for JJ not telling her.

"…and if you get in my way again, you're going to be taking your teeth home in a fucking _bag_. See this badge? Good, now move!"

Pip burst through the curtain of his cubicle to see him sitting on the bed holding an ice pack to his head. She stopped dead, cataloguing the state of him: bruised but whole.

"Fucking drama queen," she blurted with tears in her eyes, before lunging forward to hug him. "You had me worried."

"I love you too, mad woman," whispered Rossi in her ear. Pip responded by clutching him tighter. Rossi let out a distinctly unmanly yelp as Pip squeezed his shoulder right where he'd landed on it.

Realising they could be seen if anyone came looking for the source of the sound, Pip quickly took a step back, but didn't let go of his hand.

"You shouldn't threaten hospital staff, it's not nice," he chided a little teasingly. "What are you doing here?" he asked. He would never let on that he'd told JJ not to tell her. "Not that being insulted on top of everything else today isn't just what I needed."

It was _exactly_ what he needed, because just seeing her all worried over him made Rossi feel warm and fuzzy inside. The voice of reason in his head that had always sounded a bit like his mother, rolled its eyes. Oh, he had it bad alright. Soppy shit. If he wasn't careful, soon he'd be spouting bad poetry like a love-struck teenager.

Pip tutted dismissively as if he should have known. "We got the call from the insurers. Any of you lot need medical treatment while at work, Bureau's health insurance foots the bill. Passing out on the street _definitely_ counts," she added meaningfully, when he tried to point out that needing an ice pack wasn't _treatment_. "I knew it was you from the look on Griffin's face. He scribbled down which hospital it was, I read it over his shoulder and here I am. I had to see how badly off you were, I got medical clearance for extra-curricular activities this morning. _This morning_ ," she hissed. "And this afternoon, you go charging into fuck-knows-what and get yourself all beaten to shit."

The case they were working was a local one, and she'd been to see the Bureau medic earlier in the day. When she'd returned, she'd made a point of telling him she was mended to the point where sex wouldn't hurt too much if they were careful, and there were no objections to her returning to almost-full desk duty. Now, _he'd_ got hurt, but Rossi had no intention of squandering his opportunity for fun and games now the doctors had deemed her ready. It had taken two weeks, just as he said it would, and by now both of them were incredibly frustrated. Self-restraint was one thing, but so many things had delayed intimate relations between them in the past that any impediment was unbearable. It wasn't even so much the sex, as such. It was the opportunity to be close to one another, express themselves in a way they couldn't at work.

The look on her face said that wasn't her primary concern, however. Pip's eyes kept flickering over him as if trying to work how much pain he was hiding. Not all of it, but Rossi hoped she didn't know _quite_ how uncomfortable he really was. Whatever was in those boxes he'd run into had been _solid_.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Nothing a hot bath and a handful of painkillers won't solve, anyway," he added in response to her slightly disbelieving look. "I killed my cell though. Landed on it."

"I don't care about that," retorted Pip sharply. "Although Griff might," she mused, "that's your second in as many months, they're not free, you know." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You sure you're ok?"

"I get hurt worse sharing a bed with you," Rossi reassured her quietly. "Nothing says "I love you" like a knee in the crotch at 4am as you turn over in your sleep."

Pip gave him a watery laugh, tears of relief gathering once more. She scrubbed her face with her free hand. "I do, though," she said.

Rossi squeezed the hand he still had hold of. "I know. Now scoot, before Morgan comes back. I can handle things from here. JJ says we got our guy, go start my half of the paperwork so we can get away early." He finished with a suggestively raised eyebrow in case she didn't immediately get the message.

Pip sniffed and laughed again as Rossi solemnly handed her his handkerchief. He'd taken to carrying a spare these days, because Pip's moods were more mercurial than ever after getting back from her jaunt abroad. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose and emerged from the monogrammed white cotton looking more composed than when she'd arrived. She nodded and vanished as quickly as she'd appeared.

Rossi leaned back on the bed with a pained groan. "Hot bath had better help or I'll never hear the end of it," he muttered to himself.

"Never hear the end of what?" asked Morgan, brushing the curtain to one side.

"Never you mind," said Rossi shortly. "Tell me I can get out of here."

Morgan thrust a clipboard at him. "Sign and you're free."

* * *

Rossi undressed gingerly, in a bathroom full of steam. If he was having a hot bath, then it was going to be a _hot_ bath. With bubbles. It had better work too, because sex was the last thing on his mind, despite his assurances to Pip earlier. _Everything_ hurt.

He critically examined the naked man in the mirror, the only condensation-free surface in the room. Sometimes, having money was satisfying, and a fog-free bathroom mirror was definitely worth the expense.

Usually, at least. It had been a while since his reflection had looked quite so sorry for itself.

Rossi catalogued what he saw, starting from the top and working downwards. A few more grey hairs at his temples than there had been last year. He had a fairly deep cut on his brow above his left eye and a wonderful shiner on the way. Lower, there was a heavy graze on his left shoulder, in the middle of a developing bruise that spread partway across his chest, and another graze on his elbow. He had a paunch on him now, too; he was distastefully aware he'd put back on all that he'd lost while Pip had been away, and had added a few pounds on top for good measure. Past that, there was more bruising further down, darker around his hip where he'd landed on his cell. Lower still, on the other leg, an imprinted pattern of the grip around the truck handle stood out clearly. Rossi sighed. He was a mess.

He glanced sideways as the view improved significantly. Pip stood next to him, equally naked. Rossi made an effort to stand up straighter and suck in his gut.

" _I'm fine_ ," she mocked. "Yeah, _right_. We make a right pair, don't we? You look as battered as I still do."

She had a point. Two weeks on, Pip's bruises were no longer dark and angry but an almost autumnal array of reddish-purple, green and yellow.

Pip elbowed him, and Rossi let out the breath he'd been holding. To his disgust, the soft bit around his middle reappeared.

"That's better." She reached over and ran her hand over it. "I quite like this," she said teasingly.

"Glad one of us does," muttered Rossi testily, turning away to get in the tub.

"Dave, look at me," ordered Pip sternly. Rossi turned back. "Do these," she said, indicating the line of bullet wounds across her body, "bother you?"

Rossi took two steps and took her gently by the arms. "You know they don't," he insisted. They never had. As impressive survival stories went, they bore witness to something extraordinary, another part of the gorgeous puzzle that made Pip Harker. They were part of _her_ , so he loved them. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because they bother _me_. So, if you're allowed to like _them_ ," she reached down to stroke what could only be described as his middle-aged spread, "then I'm allowed to like _this_." She bent down a little to kiss it. "Now, stop being difficult and get in the bath."

Rossi chuckled, feeling better. He took her hand and pulled her gently over to the huge bath of steaming water. "Only if you're getting in with me."

"You think I'm standing here naked _just_ for your viewing pleasure?" she quipped, climbing in first. "Oh, that feels _wonderful_."

Pip was right, the hot water felt blissful for his aches and pains. Rossi lounged back in the scented water, submerged to the neck, just enjoying the warmth for a while. Ah, that felt better. The joys of wealth – a bath big enough for two. Well… _there_ was an idea…

Rossi ran his foot up the inside of Pip's thigh. "You want to come a little closer?" he asked suggestively.

It only took a few minutes of squirming and splashing to realise it wasn't going to work. No matter how they arranged themselves, one of them ended up pressing uncomfortably a sore bit, either their own or the other person's.

Pip groaned and gave up, sitting back against the other end of the bath. "Can anyone say, "passion killer"?"

"It's not as easy as I'd imagined," admitted Rossi. "Although I think maybe, when we're both…"

"No longer battered and broken?" asked Pip, reaching for the sponge.

"I told you it would take longer than two weeks." The sponge hit him in the face with a splat. "Ow."

Stretched out in bed an hour later, thoroughly relaxed and still glowing from the heat of their bath, Rossi reconsidered his options. The hot water _had_ helped, and he wasn't giving up on the idea yet, even if it looked like Pip had. Rossi rolled over onto his side and shifted himself so he was up against her.

"You still awake, _bella_?" he asked, running his hand over her warm body. He cupped a breast, rolling her nipple gently between finger and thumb before slipping his hand down, finding slick heat.

"I am now," she hummed, as his hand circled and teased. "What have you got in mind?"

Rossi took her hand and guided it down to where he was swelling rapidly. "This."

She took hold of him, stroking gently. "Are you sure? You went down with one hell of a thud from what you've told me. I'm not holding you to what I said earlier."

"You just let me worry about that," he whispered in her ear. He gently pulled her leg up and over his, nudging himself inside her before reaching down once more to that all-important bundle of nerves that made her purr.

They took it slowly. Rossi was reminded of the old joke about porcupines mating: how _did_ two creatures covered in sharp quills get it on? Answer: very, _very_ carefully. Whether it was the position, or the fact that they had to be so slow and cautious, but Rossi could feel _everything_ as Pip got closer and closer to the edge. He'd never get tired of hearing her utter his name in a way that made it a combination of both plea and prayer. It was such a stroke to his male pride that he followed her over the edge, unable to hold himself back.

They lay silent for a few moments, just enjoying the aftershocks rippling through them both.

"Hmm…endorphins. Best painkiller _ever_ ," mumbled Pip.

Rossi snorted. "Pleased to be of assistance," he muttered drily.

Pip grabbed his arm and secured it around herself like a seatbelt. "I love you. I don't say it enough."

"You say it every time you look at me," Rossi reassured her, and pressed a kiss to her neck. "Trust me, I know."


	11. Truths & Lies Part 1

_Truths & Lies Part 1_

 _ **Three things can not hide for long: the Moon, the Sun and the Truth - Gautama Buddha**_

"Does it make me a bad person, being a tiny bit glad to have a case so I can avoid that stupid Gala?" Rossi thumbed briefly through the file Pip had handed him, and instantly regretted making a joke.

"It's not the Gala you're avoiding," replied Pip, "and I get the feeling you'd prefer the Gala to what's in there."

Rossi sighed. "Yeah." Kids. Had to be kids, didn't it? Dead, mutilated and dumped like trash. Four already dead and another missing under similar circumstances to the previous victims. He glanced up at her. "Will you keep a close eye on Mudgie while I'm in New York? He was off his food last night, and that's not like him."

To his displeasure, Pip had moved back into her apartment once she was healed, but would make regular trips to his mansion to check in on Mudgie while he was away on a case. He hadn't wanted her to go, although on the other hand, it meant she was less likely to inadvertently come across the growing stack of incriminating jewellery catalogues he was accumulating. If moving in together was too much to ask so soon, then the amount of research he was doing into a ring would probably scare her off for good.

"Of course I will," replied Pip. "Now go on, they're waiting in the conference room for you."

Rossi sighed. New York again. At least it wasn't Los Angeles, a city he'd always disliked even before the Prince of Darkness. He had to just hope that none of them got injured like Hotch had last time they were in NYC. It wasn't like they could afford to have any of them out on medical leave, they didn't have enough Agents as it was.

It had been another busy two weeks. Two cases, both long distance and both taking longer than he'd like to resolve, partly because they were spread so thin. Garcia and Pip were invaluable, but neither could make up for the lack of Agents on the ground. Pip was fielding at least two thirds of the paperwork that came with being Unit Chief and yet, Rossi still felt like all he ever did was read and sign things that surely didn't _really_ need his attention.

* * *

New York felt cold, despite the soaring summer temperatures. Perhaps it was the amount of time he had to spend in the morgue, hearing far more details than he ever wanted to know about how four young boys had been tortured before they died.

Rossi phoned Pip that night before he turned in for some well-deserved sleep, just needing a distraction from the lack of progress in finding their UnSub.

"Hey." Pip sounded as weary as he felt.

"You ok?" he asked, already knowing she wasn't. Neither was he.

Pip sighed. "Busy day, right?"

As his delegated admin support while he was Unit Chief, Pip saw even more of the gruesome details of their cases than she used to. She knew _exactly_ how he felt.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Too long. Every time I think I've got a handle on the staggering range of disgusting things people can do to a fellow human being, someone comes along to remind me that there's always the possibility of something worse just around the corner."

"It's the aftermath that gets me," said Pip slowly. "The families. They'll never be the same. I saw it when I was in…when I was abroad. I had to leave him behind, and when I went back, I saw true extent of the damage he'd done."

"The previous owner of the knife you brought home?" asked Rossi carefully. She hadn't elaborated on the whys and wherefores of that story before.

"That's him," sighed Pip. "First time we met, I was a marine, young and green, just passing through his village. Friendly stop to chat with the locals kind of thing, partly because I spoke the language and we might have picked up some useful intel, partly to show that we weren't there to rob and rape like the state media would have had them believe."

Pip let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "I picked up some intel alright, just not what we wanted, or had been looking for. I heard about what he'd done and how scared the townspeople were of reporting it, partly because he'd threatened them, but also because the local chapter of the religious police would shame their families for the implication of homosexuality. I told my commanding officer, and she ordered me to leave it alone, that we weren't authorised to interfere with what passed for due process out there. Before we left, I threatened him, and he just laughed in my face. Smug sonofabitch, I rather enjoyed the look of horrified recognition when he realised I'd come back for him, just like I said I would."

"The families, though," continued Pip after a moment's silence, "they still had this sort of stunned look in their eyes, even after so many years. I was ordered to leave, to ignore it, and I did. I was a good marine, I followed my orders, but I've felt guilty about it ever since. Even more so since I went back, if I'm honest." She paused. "You know I don't hold much with religion, but those people did, it was important to how they lived every aspect of their lives, and I can respect that. For the most part, they were a kind, gentle people. But what they went through…in the end it had become too much to accept and all but one of the mothers had killed themselves, meaning they're shamed and doomed to hell anyway, according to their beliefs. They gained nothing by keeping quiet. All I did was stop him before he got to any more kids, but who knows how many more there were in the meantime?"

"And the knife?" There was no point trying to ease the weight of guilt Pip obviously felt over the situation. Rossi had been at Ruby Ridge and Waco after all, he knew just how heavy the weight of following unwelcome orders could be.

"They said it was appropriate for vanquishing the _masakh,_ literally "monster" in their tongue. I didn't want it after leaving him there with them in the first place, but I couldn't see a way to refuse without causing offence. I've pissed off enough people in that area one way or another, without adding any more unnecessarily."

"It wasn't your fault, Pip."

"And this isn't yours, although I know you're going to beat yourself up over it anyway," she pointed out, all too accurately. Rossi could already feel the particulars of the case oozing through the layer of cool professionalism he worked so hard to maintain. Sinking down, sharp claws fastening deep into his soul, where it would fester as long as the UnSub was out there, fulfilling his twisted desires with another child. And beyond, because cases like this always lurked in the subconscious, waiting to pounce on the unwary while asleep, poisoning dreams and spinning dread into the night.

"They should have called us in earlier," Pip commented, "but the head of the crime lab is on sabbatical and his second-in-command probably thought they could deal with it by themselves." She sighed. "She's good on the psycho-analysis side of things, but not so much on how it relates to serial crime. Four boys dead and a fifth missing? He wouldn't have waited until it got this far. He's impulsive and a bit of a hardass, but a first-class Detective. A fellow marine," she added, a hint of pride in her tone.

"Do you know _everyone_ in law enforcement?" asked Rossi, exasperated. "She seems ok to me, although their ME is a bit off the wall. I had to spend _far_ too much time with him today."

"Not everyone, just the important ones," said Pip imperiously.

Rossi chuckled and lay back on the hotel bed, letting Pip's voice just wash over him as if it could wash away some of the things he'd seen and learned that day. Who was he kidding? It did and it was, just hearing her chatter away was just what he needed. And she knew it, she must have done.

Rossi smiled. What was it about her that made him feel better, no matter how bad things were? The copious profanity and fierce temper that came with a compassionate heart, the loving glances that warmed his chest, as well as things a little lower. The love and protectiveness she displayed for her team that she'd extended to cover him too, long before they were together. The way she could make him laugh, no matter how awful things were. The smug look on her face as she made him gasp and groan in bed, or anywhere else they found themselves having sex these days. Everything, everything about her, even when she infuriated him. In fact, the way…

"Dave? You there?" Pip cut through his musings, and Rossi realised he'd spaced out for a while.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Did you hear a single fucking word of what I just said?" she asked sharply.

"No," he admitted, leaning back against the headboard with an arm across his eyes. "I was just thinking how much I wish I was back home, there with you."

"Nicely rescued," she noted drily. "The short version of everything you missed: Leon's got a new girlfriend, Mudgie's fine, Mrs Crabtree died. Todd's fumigating downstairs as we speak."

Rossi smiled. "Good, good, and I'll miss her cookies, but I can't say I'll miss the smell."

"Me either," agreed Pip. "It's a shame, she wasn't a bad neighbour compared to some I've had. I never knew her that well, despite living in such close quarters for so many years. We're chipping in to pay for a funeral; she has no next of kin, never married and Todd's nanna was about her last friend left. I feel rather guilty for not paying more attention to her now, and Todd and Leon are with me on that. Decent funeral is about the only thing we can do."

"Let me know what the bill is, I'll put something in too," said Rossi. "She kept me in cookies while you were away."

"You don't have to do that, Dave."

"I know, but I want to."

They said their goodbyes shortly after, Rossi turning off the light and settling down to try and rest. It wasn't the same, sleeping without her. He'd known it would happen, all those years ago. He'd got so used to sharing a bed with Pip that now, he struggled to doze off unless she was there. Talking to her had helped. Rossi smiled as he clutched a pillow to his chest, hearing her bossy command to sleep still echoing in his head. He obeyed.

* * *

Rossi had to sit and sympathise with their UnSub when they caught her three days later. He'd rather have gone to the blasted Gala with Strauss. Both of them made his skin crawl, but Strauss was by far the better option if he had to choose one to spend time with. If nothing else, she'd yet to hold a gun to his head, although Rossi was sure there'd been times when she was sorely tempted.

Much as Foyet had done, their UnSub had pulled the wool over their eyes, fooled them all, including the NYPD. They'd all thought she was just a witness, that their UnSub was male because they knew they were chasing a sadist, a preferential sex offender with a taste for prepubescent boys. Someone who enjoyed the pain they wrought as much, if not more, than the sexual satisfaction.

With no DNA evidence and all the usual behavioural pointers that might speak of a female offender notably missing, they'd felt confidently safe in their assumption. An assumption that had nearly got him killed, because a female UnSub would have changed the profile _so_ significantly, they'd surely have realised the error in their judgement of her sooner. Before the missing child turned up dead and yet another one vanished. That they were looking for a woman didn't cross any of their minds until it was almost too late, not that he'd ever tell Pip how close it had been.

The UnSub had injected herself into the investigation, as so often was the case, and none of them had given it a second thought. Much as he hadn't, when she'd asked him to drive her home from the lab in Police Plaza where they'd set up camp.

Rossi couldn't even remember specifically what it was that she'd said that alerted him to their mistake. Whatever it was, she'd known it too, the instant she'd let it slip. One second, they had been just sat talking outside her house in the Bureau SUV, the next, she'd drawn a gun on him and taken his weapon before he'd fully processed what was going on.

Morgan had saved his life again. It was turning into an uncomfortable habit – Rossi being held at gunpoint by a woman they'd all underestimated and Morgan shooting her before she could deliver his death. He didn't shoot to kill; there was still a boy missing and they needed her alive. The sound of the report had been loud, even inside the SUV.

Rossi had time to wonder at that; that someone whose brains were splattered across the inside of a car window could still consider such things as noise, before realising it wasn't him that had been shot. With her gun no longer digging into his skull, Rossi had quickly disarmed her and retrieved his own weapon from her lax grasp. Then he just sat in the driver seat, waiting for his hands to stop shaking as Morgan hauled her out of the SUV in cuffs. No, he'd never tell Pip. It had been too close, _far_ too close.

Rossi rubbed his hand absently across his face as he worked on the short flight home. Two days after it happened, he could still sense the muzzle of her weapon pressing into his forehead. If they'd only realised sooner that they were chasing a woman, if he hadn't seen JJ as he'd left the crime lab with her, if Morgan had been a little slower to get there, if she hadn't wanted to gloat a little before she killed him…the "what ifs" just kept circling in a holding pattern, too many for them all to find a space to land.

Once she was in custody and had the Morgan-inflicted gunshot wound stitched up, it had taken him another two days to wring the location of her last victim's body out of her spectacularly depraved mind. He'd had to sink so far into the UnSub's worldview to do so, that it felt like he was still climbing out of it.

She wanted to punish the children for "flirting" with her. Once she'd given in to her perverted sexual desires, that was. Knowing she would spend the rest of her life in prison was hardly enough considering what she'd done. The whole experience made Rossi wish he could erase it from his memory, the fact that she'd held him at gunpoint only adding to that. Unfortunately, he had a feeling it would stick, no matter how hard he tried.

Pip's smile as he trudged back into the BAU helped shift some of it. Knowing she would come home with him, insult him and hold him, also helped. Once the unavoidable tasks that were his to do as Unit Chief were complete, anyway. Pip herded the rest of the team home, including AST. It was Sunday and the following day would be soon enough for what she needed from them. Griffin was the last to leave, looking a little furtive as he did so.

As soon as they were alone in his office, Rossi pulled her down to sit on his lap. "I need you, Pip," he whispered in her ear, burying his face in her neck. "And I need to get out of here. After the last two days…"

She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and ran her hand through his hair. Rossi made a noise that could only be described as a mewl of appreciation, much as he would strenuously deny it if anyone asked. Somehow, she always knew what he needed. That brief touch of her lips had banished the sensation of cold metal against his head, temporarily, at least.

"Have you done your report for IA?" Rossi shook his head. Even though it hadn't been him to shoot the UnSub, as Unit Chief he had to submit his own account of Morgan's actions. He'd started it on the flight home, but it wasn't finished yet.

"You don't get special treatment just because you're sleeping with the boss," she said softly, yet still with the teasing smile that she kept just for him. "You need to get that done, Internal Affairs will want to see your account of the shooting on their desk by the time they get in tomorrow and it's something I can't help with. Hank says her lawyer is already shouting about it, if you can believe that, considering what she's done. Finish it, then we can go home. I can sort the rest of it with you in the morning."

"Thank you," he whispered, just desperate to get out of the office, away from reminders of what he'd seen in New York.

* * *

With the paperwork out of the way, they retreated to his house to try and make the most of the rest of their Sunday, complete with a roast dinner. An attempt at normality. After they'd ripped each other's clothes off, that was. They'd only made it as far as the hallway, the urge too powerful to contain. New York had been horrific, their frantic coupling life-reaffirming and desperate.

A couple of hours later as they were prepping dinner, Pip's cell started ringing from the depths of her bag sat on the counter. She looked up from her task and nodded towards it. "You couldn't fish that out for me, could you?"

Rossi glanced between her face and her backpack. "You mean, go in your bag?" he asked, aghast. He would do anything for her, including taking a bullet, but digging around in a lady's bag was a big no-no. Exceptional life-and-death circumstances aside, there was no way he was about to encroach on the unwritten feminine law that said her handbag was sacred territory and not meant for his eyes. Even if Pip wasn't the most overtly feminine of women and said handbag was a well-travelled leather backpack he'd rummaged around in before.

Pip rolled her eyes. "It's alright, I've disabled the bear trap."

Rossi blinked. "You have a bear trap in there?" he asked stupidly.

Pip stopped what she was doing. "No, but I'm starting to reconsider," she said drily. "Will you just find it? I've still got my hands up a chicken's backside."

Inevitably, her cell had stopped ringing by the time Rossi had tentatively searched the bag and retrieved it.

"Who was it?" asked Pip as she washed her hands of chicken juices, having successfully stuffed the bird for roasting.

"Griffin," replied Rossi as her cell started to ring in his hand. "That's him again."

Pip inclined her head and Rossi tucked the cell into the crook of her neck, thumbing the answer button as he did so.

"Griffin, what can…Griffin, slow down…Griff…Floyd! Breathe, for fuck's sake! What's wrong?" Pip paled as she listened, drying her hands and starting for the kitchen door. "Griffin, stay where you are. I'm on my way…stop arguing with me, this _isn't_ a discussion…No… _No! Do. Not. Move._ I'm coming for you. Do you hear me? I'm coming, stay _right_ there." She hung up and started hunting for something.

Rossi followed her as she darted around desperately searching. "Pip? What's going on?" He caught her arm when she ignored the question. "Pip?"

"Fire, Griffin's apartment block. I've got to go to him. Where are my fucking keys?" she cried.

"Here." Rossi handed them to her. Pip snatched them from his hand and started in the direction of the door. "Ah, _bella_ , you might want to change first." He ran an appreciative glance up and down her form, clad only in his shirt. Her ass cheeks were just visible at the hem. " _I_ like the view, but you'll give Griffin a heart attack dressed like that."

Pip looked down. "Huh," she grunted, a small smile appearing, despite her obvious concern for her team member. "You're probably right." She gave him back her keys and dashed upstairs.

Pip clattered back down minutes later dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"You want me to come with you?" asked Rossi.

"Yeah. It might take both our badges to get me a pass on my driving," said Pip absently, grabbing her keys as she passed, barely stopping long enough to open the door. Rossi was struck by the thought that if it had been locked, he'd have a Pip-shaped hole in it, like they did in cartoons. That didn't bode well for her driving style, which could be frightening enough as it was.

"Oh, good," he muttered, shrugging on a t-shirt from his go-bag; Pip having left his shirt upstairs. "Because I haven't had enough near-death experiences lately."

He was right. It was a white-knuckle ride to Griffin's neighbourhood, Pip taking an unorthodox route to get where they were going. Some of the trip was on roads, but Pip also took them through a series of unlikely shortcuts, including an alley barely wide enough for the truck, and certainly not at the speed they were going. There was something incredibly disconcerting to see brickwork whizzing past at seventy miles an hour, barely inches from the window. If that hadn't been hair-raising enough, Pip turned from there into a warehouse and simply slalomed through the shelving before shooting out into the loading bay. A flight of steps and two parking lots later, they rejoined the road.

"Nearly there," Pip said, unnecessarily. Even from miles away, Rossi had been able to see where they were headed from the column of black smoke rising into the otherwise clear and beautiful summer evening. By that time, they were close enough that he could smell it too. Pip's creative off-roading had shaved a good half hour off the journey time.

Pip barely let the truck come to a stop before leaping from the cab. Rossi followed more slowly, hanging back to let his stomach settle a little as Pip tore across the parking lot filled with fire trucks and ambulances.

"Griffin!" she yelled as she ran. "Griffin!" She stopped and turned in a circle. "Griffin! Griffin, _report_ damn you!"

A familiar mop of red hair bobbed up from the back of an ambulance as Griffin got to his feet. "Boss?" he croaked, before doubling over, coughing. A paramedic pushed him back down and replaced the oxygen mask he'd taken off.

Pip darted in his direction. "Griffin!" She skidded to a halt in front of him, cataloguing the state of him. Pale under the soot smudges and shaking still, Griffin was a little singed around the edges, missing his eyebrows and a chunk of hair on one side. His freckles stood out starkly against the pallor of his face.

"Oh, Griffin," breathed Pip, then enveloped him in a hug as Griffin started to sniffle.

"Boss, I'm sorry, I…" Griffin's words were muffled by the mask and Pip batted his hand away when he tried to take it off.

"No, no, you keep that on," insisted Pip, pulling the young man's head to her chest. "Ssh, ssh, it's ok, Griffin. I'm here, I've got you. Everything's going to be ok."

Watching Pip comfort the young man twisted something inside Rossi. She had so much love to give and had adopted her team in place of the children she could never have. It blazed from her, much as the fire blazed behind them, consuming the small block of apartments Griffin had lived in. There were times he felt truly honoured that she'd turned that warmth on him, too. The rest of the time, he wondered whether she knew how deep it ran for him, whether she realised that she was the last woman he would ever be with, because he was never letting go of her. He had the feeling his rather dubious track-record with women was working against him, that she thought he'd eventually move on.

"Can I take him home?" Pip asked the hovering paramedic.

The paramedic checked a couple of monitors and nodded. "Yeah, he's good to go, just keep an eye on him for the next hour or so. Take him to the ER if you notice any signs of cyanosis. That's…"

"It's ok, I know what to look for," she reassured the paramedic with a nod of understanding. "Thanks for looking after him," she added, before turning her attention to Griffin.

Pip gently removed the oxygen mask and stroked Griffin's hair. "You stink, and you're going to need a haircut to disguise the bit you're missing," she teased, "but I know a guy who does amazing make-up tips if you can't wait for the eyebrows to grow back in." Griffin laughed and then started coughing again.

"Come on, I'm parked this way," she said when he'd finished, tugging gently on his arm.

Pip led Griffin back towards Rossi and her pickup. Griffin paused when he saw Rossi, casting a questioning glance at his boss. Pip just raised an eyebrow. Griffin took another glance at Rossi, then started walking again.

Pip drove them back to her place and after a brief conversation Rossi couldn't hear, shoved Griffin in the direction of the shower. Rossi started the coffee machine while Pip went to dig out some clothes for Griffin to wear.

She knocked on the bathroom door. "You decent, kid?" There was a noise that sounded like assent and Pip deposited the small pile just inside the door.

"I've loaned him some of your stuff, he's a lot shorter and skinnier than you, he'd be able to camp in your shirt if you gave him a pole," commented Pip from the kitchen doorway.

Rossi leaned against the counter, coffee in hand. "He ok?"

Pip sighed and accepted the mug he handed her. "No. He's lost everything. Insurance will cover some things, but he's lost all the old photos of his family, all his books, all his keepsakes, everything that really matters."

"And the Master file from New York," added Griffin from behind Pip.

"Griff! You're not supposed to…" started Pip as she spun to face him. She stopped as the anguished expression on Griffin's face twisted into pure shame. "I'll deal with it," she finished firmly.

"But…"

"You're an idiot, but you're _my_ idiot, and I _will_ protect you," growled Pip. She cupped Griffin's face with one hand. "You're not to worry about it until I tell you that you should, is that clear?"

Gratitude and relief flooded Griffin's entire demeanour. "Thank you, boss."

Pip cuffed him round the head gently. "I'm still pissed off you took the Master file home, but we'll talk about that later." She gave him a gentle push. "Go on, go sit down, I'll bring you a brew."

Griffin glanced at Rossi over Pip's shoulder and did as she asked.

"He knows," said Rossi quietly, once he was out of earshot.

"Of course he does. He's many things, but he's not stupid," agreed Pip as she threw sugar in a mug and handed it to him to fill. "He won't say anything though."

"You sure?" he asked, only filling the mug two thirds the way up to leave room for the dollop of scotch he knew Griffin would need in it. "He's young…"

"And we're not," smirked Pip. "You realise I hit forty while I was away? He's young enough that simply the _thought_ of old people having sex is enough to silence him."

"I'm not old," growled Rossi, putting down Griffin's coffee and pulling her towards him. "If we didn't have an audience, I'd show you just how _not-old_ I am." He kissed her fiercely, enough to draw an appreciative moan from the back of her throat. That noise always got him all hot and bothered, and Rossi deepened the kiss, pressing her up against the counter and grinding his hips into hers.

Pip looked up at him as they parted, eyes sparkling. "I'm _almost_ convinced," she said cheekily, and ran her hand tantalisingly over the developing bulge in his jeans. "You can continue presenting your evidence later." She picked up two mugs and left him in the kitchen, desperately trying to make his body subside by force of will alone.

By the time he joined Griffin and Pip in the living room, Pip had fetched the bottle from its shelf, and had already added a fair measure to Griffin's mug by the look of the flush starting to make itself known on the young man's face. Although that could have been for the smug, thoroughly-kissed look still on Pip's.

Griffin glanced briefly at his boss, then cocked his head and subtly toasted Rossi with his mug. Rossi nodded in reply. They understood each other. Griffin was telling him that all the time his boss was happy, then so was he. The undertones of that, was that as soon as his boss _wasn't_ happy, there'd be trouble. It was sweet in a way, considering Griffin looked about twelve years old with his childish features and swamped in an old shirt of Rossi's that was about three sizes too big.

"Dave, can you sit with him a minute?" asked Pip as he settled himself on the arm of the sofa on her side. "I want to dash down and talk to Todd."

"I don't need a babysitter, boss!" exclaimed Griffin. "I should go…I'm intruding…" He stood, clutching the overly-large tracksuit bottoms with one hand to make sure they didn't fall down. Rossi mentally chided the young man for reminding him just how many inches he'd put on round his waist. Those things were uncomfortably snug on him if he'd eaten a big dinner. Griffin was practically _swimming_ in them.

Pip leapt from the sofa. "Oh yeah?" she said dismissively. "And where would you go, exactly?" She pushed Griffin back down, not entirely gently. "You're not going anywhere, and Dave is going to stay with you to make sure you don't."

Rossi eased himself down into her spot, warmed by her body heat. Pip flashed him a grateful smile and left, clomping her way noisily down the stairs to the apartment below.

"I'm in _so_ much trouble about that file," said Griffin to break the rather awkward silence that developed as soon as Pip had gone.

"Not as much trouble as you will be by worrying about it when she told you not to," replied Rossi with a smirk. "Trust me."

"Oh, I know," replied Griffin resignedly. "Like arguing with a force of nature, right?" They exchanged rueful smiles. "I'm sorry I ruined your afternoon."

"You think anything would have stopped her rushing to wherever you were?" asked Rossi. "You should know her better than that by now."

Griffin nodded. "I don't have any family, only an aged aunt-by-marriage in Maine. Boss put herself down as my next of kin on the Bureau medical forms," he added. "I didn't even know she'd done it until I came off my bike. She turned up in the ER to yell at me for trying to cycle home drunk off my ass, gave me a hug and then started to yell at me for scaring her."

Rossi chuckled. "That sounds like Pip. The more she cares, the more she growls and insults you."

"Yeah. Actually, that explains a lot about you two," Griffin said cheekily. "Ah, sorry sir, that was…"

"Don't apologise, you're right," interrupted Rossi with a smile. "I love it, but if you tell her that, I'll have to kill you."

Griffin let out a laugh that turned into a coughing fit. Rossi pounded him on the back until he stopped.

"Thank you, sir."

"Rossi, or Dave. No need for "sir" here," said Rossi with a smile, remembering a similar conversation with Pip many years previously. "And you didn't ruin anything, Griffin. We're both just pleased you're safe, that's all."

"It's nice of you to say, sir, after the week you've had." Griffin shot him a sideways glance. "Rossi. Um, that could take some getting used to."

Rossi chuckled, and looked up as Pip bounced back into the apartment. "Found you a place to stay," she announced brightly. "Todd's going to let you have the ground floor apartment."

"Hope you don't mind the smell of old lady cabbage farts," muttered Rossi, causing Griffin to first laugh, then start coughing again.

"And floral anaglypta wallpaper," noted Pip when he stopped. "Todd's not had a chance to redecorate yet."

* * *

"There is one condition, unfortunately non-negotiable," said Pip as the three of them stood at what used to be Mrs Crabtree's front door an hour later. Said condition made itself evident as she turned the key in the lock. "You now have full custody of _that_."

Pip pushed open the door and a yapping brownish-grey blur latched itself onto Rossi's right shoe.

"Oh, not again," groaned Rossi indignantly. "These are hand-made, you bloody menace." He shook the dog off his foot and inspected the damage as Griffin and Pip laughed. "That's three pairs now," he complained, running his fingers mournfully over the tooth marks embedded in the formally pristine leather.

Having ruined another set of perfectly good footwear for him, Poppy relieved her bladder over the hallway floor in her excitement.

"Congratulations, Griffin. You are now the proud owner of the most obnoxious little shit machine I've ever had the misfortune to meet," said Pip over Poppy's yapping. "Enjoy."

Griffin knelt down and Poppy leapt into his arms. "Hello, little one," he crooned. Poppy licked his face and snuggled into his chest, silent at last.

Pip rolled her eyes. "Typical. Love at first sight."

"Not _always_ a bad thing," muttered Rossi to himself, following the other two into Mrs Crabtree's apartment. "Smells…interesting in here," he commented, holding his sleeve over his nose. Unfortunately, his clothes smelled of Griffin's burning apartment block. It wasn't exactly an improvement and Rossi quickly gave up. If he could cope with dead bodies, he could cope with the pervading odour combination of Mrs Crabtree and Poppy's unwillingness to wait for a toilet break.

"Todd and I decided we're calling it "shitrus"," said Pip as they moved from room to room. "The lemon doesn't quite cover what was there before, but if Griff keeps the windows open for about three months, it'll be fine. Can't say the same about the décor, though," she said, wrinkling her nose at the garish yellow tiling in the kitchen. "Todd's got his work cut out. Best thing that could happen to this place is a hand grenade."

"It can be arranged," quipped Rossi. "Urgh, anything to get rid of _that_ ," he added, opening the bathroom door and pointing to the avocado-coloured suite. "Seventies style at its absolute worst."

"Uh, boss?" piped up Griffin from the living room. "This is a nice area, and I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't afford something as big as this." He turned as Rossi and Pip made their way back into the room. "I mean, I'm renting a box room in a shared apartment, I don't think I can…"

Pip flapped a dismissive hand in his direction. "Griff, it's taken care of, don't worry. You'll have to live with Todd coming and going as he does the place up a bit to go on the market, but he's happy for you to stay here as a favour to me while he does so. You've got six months rent-free to work out what you're going to do."

She cuffed him round the head when Griffin started stammering his thanks. "Hush. It's my job to look out for you, remember? Now, there's no mattress on the bed, but the sofa's newish, Leon's new girlfriend just bought a one and he brought her old one back here instead of taking it to the dump like she asked. I've got a spare duvet and loads of pillows, I'll dash up and get them, at least you'll have somewhere to sleep. Even if it does smell like old people in here."

She left Rossi with Griffin, and Poppy, still nestled in Griffin's arms and growling at Rossi intermittently.

"When are you going to tell her?" asked Griffin, apropos to nothing. "You obviously haven't yet."

Rossi raised a questioning eyebrow and turned away to examine the hideous painting hung over the mantle. "Tell her what?"

"Me and Sarge saw Agent Morgan's after-action report."

Reflexively, Rossi reached up to rub his forehead. Oh. He'd somehow managed to miss the fact that while Pip wouldn't see Rossi's own report to IA, _Morgan's_ would go in the file, and he would be candid about what happened.

"How come she doesn't know already then?" asked Rossi softly. "She had the file earlier, before it was destroyed." He turned just in time to see Griffin wince. "That didn't come out quite how I meant it."

Griffin gave him a small smile. "I know." He shook his head. "Sarge made me hold it back."

"Phillips was giving me time to tell her before she read it in the file," breathed Rossi.

Griffin shuffled his feet. "Kind of. Sarge said she'd go batshit if she didn't hear your side of it first. Didn't make much sense before this afternoon, but it does now." He shrugged. "I just figured you were good friends, I wouldn't have thought of withholding it from her."

Which meant Phillips already knew. Rossi frowned. "Does _everybody_ know about us?" he growled, somewhat incredulously. They'd been so careful!

"No. Just Sarge, and now me, I guess," replied Griffin. "Knowing Hank, we'll probably never find out if he does or not. I've had deeper personal conversations with my _lunch_."

Rossi smiled. If ever there was reason to be grateful for Duffy's quiet, unassuming manner, this was prime example. "You realise how important it is that our relationship is kept quiet?" he asked seriously. Griffin nodded easily. "And the other thing?" he added tentatively.

Griffin gave him a condescending look straight out of Pip's book. "We're loyal to the boss, sir." Griffin jutted his chin and stared up at Rossi. "It was done with her wellbeing in mind. But if you don't tell her, then we _will_."

* * *

It was late by the time Rossi and Pip found themselves back in his kitchen, contemplating their still-raw and entirely untouched chicken. Neither of them had thought to cover it, or tuck it away for safekeeping in the fridge before they'd dashed out to find Griffin.

"I'm worried about him," said Rossi, looking from the surprisingly intact bird to his dog and back again. "Six months ago, I would have bet heavily that we'd be at the emergency vet right now, having raw chicken bones removed. It's not like Mudgie to pass up an opportunity for free food he knows he shouldn't have."

"The draw of the forbidden fruit," agreed Pip. "You think it'll keep? I'm really not in the mood for a huge lavish roast dinner if I'm honest."

Nor was he, and the thought of the smell of roasting flesh of _any_ kind actually turned his stomach after seeing the bodies being wheeled past him that afternoon.

Rossi breathed a sigh of relief. "You either, huh?" Pip shook her head. "Probably not worth risking anyway. It's been sat in the open all afternoon, and it was a warm day."

"Hate wasting food," muttered Pip, but fetched a bag to wrap the bird in before binning it.

They dined instead on the emergency pizza he always kept in the freezer, lounged on his sofa with a plate between them.

"They've changed the recipe, we'd have been better off eating the box it came in," said Rossi, chewing unenthusiastically.

"Mmm," agreed Pip absently. "Have you got a headache?"

Rossi threw his pizza crust back on the plate. "No," he said slowly, running a hand suggestively up her thigh. "Are you offering dessert? I seem to remember you promising me a chance to present more evidence…" Pip shifted her leg out of his reach and Rossi looked at her in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Why have you been rubbing your forehead all afternoon?" she asked.

Rossi forced his hand back down to the sofa when it tried to do it again without his permission. He let out a long sigh and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "She held a gun to my head, the UnSub. We didn't know it was a woman we were after, and I drove her home. She let something slip and planned to kill me to make her escape. Sometimes I think I can still feel it."

"And when were you going to tell me about this?" Pip growled, low and angry. "You caught her two days ago."

He had no answer for that. He'd considered not telling her at all. Had still been considering it in fact, right up until the moment Griffin had reminded him that not doing so would be pointless, because Pip would find out anyway. The only reason she hadn't already, was because Phillips knew about them and knew that she'd want Rossi to tell her first.

But saying any of that would be tantamount to suicide.

Pip correctly interpreted his hesitation and surged to her feet, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips. "Were you _ever_ going to tell me, or just wait until I read it in the file?" she asked caustically.

Rossi rubbed his forehead again, dropping his hand when he realised Pip was following his every action with a critical eye. "It still bothers me," he said quietly.

"I can see that. Doesn't answer the question," she spat.

Rossi stood. It had been a long week, he was tired and now he was pissed off as well. "Look, it's not something I'm particularly proud of, not seeing her for what she was. Another kid _died_ while she played the distraught witness. Fucking lay off the third degree, will you?"

"Still not an answer." Pip grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Let me know when you've made up your mind." She stormed away, leaving him standing in his living room, hand ghosting once more over the phantom bruise on his head. The bruise that was more to his pride than his skin. The sound of his front door slamming echoed through the house, and Mudgie whined from his place on the rug.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," sighed Rossi. "It's alright for you, your last liaison was an unsuspecting mailman's leg. It's a bit more complicated for us humans."

Rossi sat back down and laid an arm over his eyes. " _Women_ ," he grumbled, "ought to come with a fucking _manual_."

Mudgie exhaled disapprovingly through his nose. Rossi groaned. Even his _dog_ thought he'd been an ass.


	12. Truths & Lies Part 2

_Truths & Lies Part 2_

 _ **If there is to be reconciliation, first there must be truth - Timothy B. Tyson**_

It only took Rossi ten minutes to realise he should have gone after Pip when she stormed out. It took him another twenty to work out exactly what it was he'd done wrong, and at least that long again to decide what he was going to do next.

Mudgie got bundled into the car, somehow still managing to look reproachful whenever he met his master's eye. His go-bag had been repacked hours before, that got slung in the car too, as did a hurriedly purchased box of luxury chocolates as he drove to her place. Pip wasn't a flowers type of girl; he'd learned that one the hard way many years previous. Chocolate however, chocolate _might_ give him a chance to at least try and explain before she threw something at him. Chocolate was more of a sure bet than bacon, although he had seriously debated it for a moment.

Griffin was a little bleary-eyed when he answered the door. His hair was sticking up on one side and he had obviously been woken up by Rossi's strident hammering. Poppy growled from behind him, not happy to see Rossi twice in one day.

"Yeah?" he yawned. "What can…"

"I'm in trouble and I need a favour," said Rossi without preamble. "I need you to look after my dog, he can't manage the stairs and there's no way he'll tolerate being carried up them, he hates being picked up."

Griffin sleepily took in the sight before him. "You told her," he mumbled. "Didn't go well, huh? Yeah sure…"

Rossi tossed Griffin his car keys and started up the stairs two at a time while still talking. "I'm parked round the back, next to Pip. His name's Mudgie, he's been fed, doesn't usually like new people. Thanks Griffin, I owe you one!" added Rossi as he rounded the turn to start for the third floor.

"What do you mean he doesn't like new people?" called Griffin up the stairwell, but Rossi was already too far away to respond.

He'd learned his lesson after Alabama and didn't knock, instead using his key to let himself into Pip's apartment. Rossi held the chocolates in front of him like a shield, hoping that perhaps if nothing else, they'd help stall her long enough for him get the first word in.

He'd expected fury, a violent flare of Pip's righteous indignation coupled with a few choice curses and possibly the threat of some sort of missile. He'd prepared himself for that, even had a speech ready to try and head her off.

He wasn't prepared for what he found instead. Huddled on the sofa, Pip was curled up where he usually sat, knees drawn to her chest and head resting on her arms. She looked up as Rossi closed the door, eyes red and cheeks tear-streaked, with such a heart-breaking look of devastation that his carefully rehearsed words simply died in his throat.

Rossi sat down next to her, completely at a loss for what to say. The chocolates got tossed carelessly onto the coffee table. "Pip…"

He got no further, Pip uncurling and launching herself at him, burying her face in his chest and hanging on tightly as if he'd disappear if she let go. It took a moment for Rossi to respond, utterly unprepared for her desperate embrace. Her shoulders shook, and his shirt dampened as they sat there, holding each other tightly.

"Ssh, _bella,_ it's ok, I'm ok, everything's ok," Rossi murmured into her hair, over and over again.

"Nearly wasn't," she said thickly into his shirt a few minutes later. She withdrew, leaning over to grab something from down her side of the sofa. Pip thumped him twice on the chest with her tablet computer. "I started pulling things together to make a new file and realised Phillips had kept something back."

Rossi took the tablet from her grasp before she decided to beat him over the head with it instead of just nudging him in the chest. She was upset, which was understandable given her history of losing a loved one while on the job, but these days Pip could fluctuate from upset to raging in a matter of seconds. Best not to leave a potential weapon in her hands.

He squinted at the screen. The document displayed was clearly an electronic copy of the standard AIS1, but without his reading glasses, Rossi had no chance of working out what it said. His arms simply weren't long enough to hold it far enough away to make it legible. He knew what it was without trying to decipher it, however: Morgan's report. It was the only thing it could be.

"Agent Morgan was a little more generous with the details than you were," added Pip, confirming Rossi's identification of the report's author.

Well, he'd known that Morgan would be brutally honest from the beginning. Rossi set the tablet to one side. "Pip…"

"It's hard enough knowing you're at risk every time you're in the field without worrying whether you're going to be honest about how bad it really is," she interrupted, voice rising. "Did you ever decide if you were going to tell me, or just wait for me to read it in the file?"

Gone was the soggy, inconsolable Pip. There were still tears pouring down her face, but she was furious again. At least he'd been somewhat ready for that.

"It scared me witless. I was just trying to work out how I felt about it first," Rossi explained. "I was always going to tell you." Little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone, right? "I still can't believe we got the profile so wrong."

"Witless? No shit," she snorted. "So, while you worked it out, Morgan submits his report and I read about it first. Well, that answers that, doesn't it?" replied Pip acidly. She wiped yet more tears away. "Do you know why women cry when they're angry at their men?"

Rossi shook his head. He had no idea what the right answer was, and wasn't going to risk getting it wrong.

"It's because we know we can't murder you for what you've done, and it's so _fucking_ frustrating!"

Rossi choked, knowing that laughing at that could well be the last thing he ever did. "Er…I brought chocolates?" he said weakly.

Pip just stared at him. "Plain or selection box?" she asked eventually, after a silence long enough to make him squirm. The scowl lightened. It wasn't a smile, he had a way to go for that, but the threat of verbal evisceration seemed to have retreated for the time being.

"Truffles," he replied, a little more confidently, knowing the worst of the storm had passed. He retrieved the box from the table and proffered them to her. "Liqueur truffles. Your favourite."

"How can you be so sweet and yet so utterly infuriating, all at the same time?" she asked, busily tearing off the wrapper.

"Says she," retorted Rossi with a smile. "Pot meet kettle, _bella_. I know you worry about me, but it's more than a job, it's who I am." He shrugged. "Sometimes things don't go the way we anticipate. It's the nature of the BAU, you know that as well as I do. The whole thing bothers me as much as it does you, by the way," he added.

"I know, I just…" Pip paused. "I know it's hypocritical, given all the things I've kept from you over the years, but the fact you didn't tell me…"

"I was going to," he assured her. "Honestly, I'd completely forgotten Morgan's IA report would go in the file, and I was going to bring it up this evening."

Rossi caught himself rubbing his forehead again. He dropped his hand with a sideways glance at Pip, who had halted her perusal of the menu inside the lid to watch him.

"She gloated, as she dug the barrel into my forehead," he said quietly, "so smug that she'd got the best of me. She asked me whether I had someone, someone who would miss me, someone who loved me as much as I loved them. For probably the first time in my life, I could answer honestly that there was, and it made her gloat all the more. You probably saved my life as much as Morgan did, because that bit of information delayed her enough to give him time to get there and line up his shot."

Pip's eyes widened. The chocolates went flying as she launched herself at him again. Rossi had the slightly surreal experience of a ballistic truffle hitting him squarely between the eyes, right where the phantom sensation of the gun barrel seemed to still tingle.

"I'm sorry," Pip mumbled into his neck. "I'm a complete bitch, I'm sorry. It's just this case, and then Griffin and now you, I just…"

"I know, _bella_ ," said Rossi, trying to surreptitiously pick truffles out of his lap with one hand, while the other stroked Pip's back. "It's been a really shitty week, one way or another. Truce?"

Pip nodded against him and Rossi pulled her up to kiss her. She melted against him, much as the remains of the truffles were doing, and let out one of those moans that always got him going.

Pip leaned back to look at him. Her eyes were watery and reddened still, but the familiar spark had returned. Her brow furrowed and with no warning, she leaned up and licked his forehead, a long lingering swipe of her tongue.

"What..." Rossi spluttered and dried the wet streak she'd left behind with his sleeve, "was that for?"

"Chocolate." Pip grinned and shrugged. "I wasn't going to waste it."

"Sounds reasonable." Rossi latched himself onto that sensitive point on her neck, which also had a smear of chocolate on it. "You've got some right here," he said with a smirk, as she moaned again.

Pip picked a truffle off his shirt and ate it. "You're covered in it," she said, slipping her hands underneath the thin material. "I think you ought to take this off so I can make sure I got it all."

"You just like me walking around without a shirt on," accused Rossi, actively helping her to remove the offending garment.

"Damn right I do," she muttered, leaving him to fight the rest of his way out of the shirt alone, while she fastened her lips and teeth gently around a nipple. "'S not my fault you're fucking gorgeous, is it?" she asked as she switched sides. "I just get to enjoy it."

He did too, because having Pip kiss and nibble her way around him was incredibly pleasurable. Rossi pushed her back against the cushions. "You're wearing too many clothes," he purred in her ear. "I wonder where else you've got chocolate on you? Shall we see?"

* * *

"Well, I think we can confirm that make-up sex is amazing," murmured Pip wryly.

"Mmm," hummed Rossi agreeably into her neck. He was still stretched out mostly on top of her, too languid to move just yet. Their movements had been a little restricted given the amount of space on her sofa, and the fact that they ended up far too impatient to let either of them wriggle fully out of their jeans. With emotions running so high on both sides, it was never going to last long but they'd made up for it in terms of quality. "Not sure the bit before that is worth it, though," he mumbled.

"Me either," she agreed.

"I think I've got liqueur truffle in my hair," complained Rossi, shifting to his side a little so he wasn't crushing her with his weight.

"I can beat that," retorted Pip, "I _know_ I've got some in my hair. And all over my sofa."

Rossi huffed with amusement against her neck, nuzzling gently at her pulse point when she shivered pleasurably in response. "That's not the only thing you've got all over your sofa," he pointed out.

Pip sniggered. "That's all you. It's a good job these covers are wipe-clean, isn't it?"

"You've got a filthy mind, I meant the ashtray," Rossi disputed. "You knocked it off the table with your elbow."

"I'm responsible for what I say, not what you understand. Who's to say I didn't mean the ashtray?" she asked, far too innocently. " _You're_ the one with the filthy mind. Besides, I didn't say it was your fault, just that I'm blaming you."

He couldn't help but laugh. "You're crazy. Completely barking."

"I'm an acquired taste, you either love me or acquire some taste."

Rossi kissed her softly. "I do. You're a lunatic, but you're _my_ lunatic."

"Likewise," murmured Pip with a smile. "Speaking of barking," she mused, "where's Mudgie? You didn't leave him home alone did you?"

"Griffin's got him," replied Rossi. "There's been no screaming, so I can assume they're getting along. Probably a good job considering the amount of flying chocolate around here recently," he teased, kissing a smudge of it off her arm that he'd missed on first inspection. "On that note, I think we ought to relocate this conversation to the shower."

"Do you think I'm alright?" asked Pip as they settled themselves in bed, a not-so-quick shower later.

"What do you mean, _bella_?" asked Rossi, wrapping his arm around her.

"I overreacted today," she replied quietly. "Badly. I have nightmares, and there are times when I just can't keep my temper under control any more. I've done some _serious_ hours in the gym recently, just burning off steam."

Rossi tightened his grip on her in concern about where her line of thought was going. "You've been eating a lot of salad lately, so much I was starting to wonder if I ought to check you over for floppy ears and a fluffy tail. I just thought you were on a "my body is a temple" kick." He worshipped her as if she were a sacred being after all, but he _had_ noticed the mood swings.

Pip huffed. "A temple? If so, it's abandoned and _definitely_ haunted." She paused. "Since I got back…I feel like I'm not…not _me_ anymore. It scares me, Dave," she finished in a whisper.

"What you went through…I'd be surprised if you _hadn't_ developed some kind of post-traumatic symptoms," said Rossi, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "If it scares you, maybe you ought to talk to someone about it."

"You volunteering?"

"Actually, no," he disagreed gently. "I'll always listen if you need me, Pip, you know that, but I mean a professional. Someone trained, because all I'll ever be able to do is offer a shoulder to cry on. I'm no expert in how to deal with that kind of thing. I've done my time with the Bureau shrinks too, there's no shame in it."

Pip snorted. "I know that," she retorted. "Seen my fair share of therapists over the years. But where would I go? Not the Bureau, and anyone with clearance high enough to hear about it works for the Company. It's not like I can just stroll up to my former bosses and say "hi, I'm a bit fucked up after what you made me do, help me." They'd probably rather _shoot_ me. Keeps the op secure _and_ saves a bunch of money on medical bills. They left me in the desert to die, Dave, not exactly the Caring Employer of The Year."

Unfortunately, she had a point. "What about someone who's been through something similar?" suggested Rossi, after some thought. "You wouldn't be able to go into as much detail but maybe it would help? Any of your old Marine buddies with the right kind of qualifications?"

Pip turned around in his arms to face him. "Yes! You're a genius!" She kissed him. "I know just the man." Pip snuggled up against Rossi's chest, apparently content now she had her answer. "I'll call him in the morning."


	13. Angel

_Angel_

 _ **Why are old lovers able to become friends? Two reasons. They never truly loved each other, or they love each other still - Whitney Otto**_

Pip bounced into his office early the following morning, all smiles and sparkly eyes. She had her backpack over one shoulder. "Come on, with me. There's someone I want you to meet."

"Where are we going?" Rossi asked, as Pip led him out to the helipad. He'd never even considered not doing what she said.

" _We're_ not. This is me asking for the day off," she yelled over the roar of an approaching helicopter.

A large Hispanic man in full Marine dress uniform clambered from the chopper as soon as it touched down, ducking the downdraft of the still whirling blades. Only his slightly stiff movements gave away his age. And his rank, Rossi noticed, as the man got closer.

"Russet!" he bellowed, audible from a distance even over the noise.

Pip grinned. "Dave, meet General Julio Perez, America's highest-ranking Latino serviceman."

"Good to see you!" Perez strode over to them and smothered Pip in a hug.

"Captain," breathed Pip, relaxing noticeably into the embrace.

"I've got four stars these days, Russet, as I'm sure you well know," said Perez with a grin as they parted. Rossi uneasily noticed the possessive arm that Perez kept around Pip's shoulder.

Pip grinned up at Perez. "You'll always be my Captain, sir, no matter how high a rank they want to pin on you."

Perez squeezed her to him a little before releasing her. "At ease, _mi querido_. No need for "sir" out of you. You don't fall under my remit anymore." He squinted at her. "I'm not sure you ever did, technically speaking."

"No such thing as a former Marine, sir," replied Pip smartly, the teasing spark in her eyes Rossi was accustomed to being used on him, aimed firmly at Perez instead.

Perez rolled his eyes. "And a mouthy one, at that. You always were. That last tour, we argued so much I thought we were _married_. More than half the complaints I ever heard about you were because you just didn't know when to quit flapping your tongue."

Rossi frowned a little as Pip blushed. Evidently, she had been the kid at school who argued with the boys because she liked them, much as boys would often pick on girls they liked. Certainly explained some of her treatment of _him_ in the early days. He raised an eyebrow at her. From where he stood, she wanted the day off to go swanning around with a powerful former boyfriend in his swanky helicopter. A man who had his arm around her once more. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it all.

Perez let go of Pip long enough to reach forward and shake Dave's hand. "Nice to meet you Agent Rossi."

"Likewise," managed Rossi, stomach twisting as Perez draped his arm back around Pip.

Perez checked his watch and looked down at Pip nestled into his side. "We've got to go. I'm due at the White House at ten, if you want to get there and back by dark and still have time to…"

Pip nodded and stepped out of his embrace to wrap her arms round Rossi. "He's taking me to talk to some people I should have spoken to a long time ago," she said softly. "I'll be back this evening."

Rossi tightened his grip before releasing her. "I love you." For whatever reason, he needed to make sure she knew that before she left. With a man who seemed to know her so well, a man she'd never spoken of before. A man _far_ too comfortable in her personal space for his liking.

"I know." Pip glanced over her shoulder. "That was a long time ago, Dave," she said, confirming his thoughts about her history with Perez. "Nothing for you to worry about." She stood on tip toe to whisper in his ear. "I love you too."

Perez shepherded her into the aircraft and Rossi had to turn away as the downdraft kicked dust and small debris into the air. The helicopter roared off into the sky, heading north. Rossi watched it until it was out of sight, then turned to start the long walk back to his office, turning that conversation over and over in his mind.

* * *

Pip returned about six in the evening, bowling into his office much as she'd done earlier that morning. "You hungry?" she chirped. "We haven't been to Mama Rosa's for _ages_."

It wasn't until he thought about it that Rossi realised just how long it had been. He put down his pen. "How many people are still here?" he asked. They always waited either until they could leave separately and meet in the parking garage, or duck out together if there was nobody watching.

"Only my lot and JJ," shrugged Pip.

Only people that knew about them, in other words. Rossi had a brief mental debate about whether he thought Duffy knew, before deciding it didn't matter. He stood and grabbed his coat. "Let's go."

The owner of Mama Rosa's greeted them with a cheery shout of greeting, proof enough that it had been too long since they'd spent any time there. Rossi and Pip made their way to their usual seats at their customary corner table, followed by a waiter carrying a bottle of their favourite red without needing to be asked. Both breathed a sigh of relief as they sat, then caught each other's eye and laughed.

"This place was like a second home at one point," commented Pip, glancing around as the waiter poured their wine. "I don't think we've been here since I got back."

"We had a lot of fun here," agreed Rossi.

"Captain said I need to start getting my life back. Properly, not just my job. Getting back to everything I used to do." Pip started counting things off on her fingers. "Coming here, knife training, our cinema trips, going out with my team, spending time with Mark and JP." She waved her wineglass at him. "I've been waiting for "normal" just to sort of…happen, I suppose, without actually doing anything about it." She took a sip of the wine. "Oh, I've missed that. Never tastes the same when we open a bottle of this at home."

"And Perez thinks that's going to help?" said Rossi doubtfully. Didn't sound like much.

Pip laughed a little. "No. What helped, was talking to my mom and dad."

Rossi breathed out a sigh of understanding. Perez had taken her to her parent's grave. "Do you visit them often?" he asked, thinking uncomfortably of James. He hadn't been there in years.

"First time," said Pip quietly and took a gulp of her wine. "It was something I needed to do, but never worked up the courage."

She didn't want him to ask why, the twisted frown told him that straightaway. She was more open, easier to read this evening. Rossi was happy to comply, simply because she seemed so much more herself.

"You asked Perez to fly you up there?" he asked instead. Seemed like a big favour, despite the obvious bond between them.

She gave him a rueful smile. "The Captain suggested it." Pip snorted, and corrected herself. "Actually, he didn't suggest it, he made doing it a condition of his help. He knows me too well, I wouldn't have gone otherwise."

"How'd you two meet? I'm assuming you served together." He'd wanted to ask about Perez as soon as she'd reappeared in his office that evening. Actually, he'd practically had to sit on his hands all day to stop himself pulling Perez's military file so he could see for himself. He'd found himself standing outside Garcia's door _twice_ with the intention of asking her to find out about him, before coming to his senses.

"Yeah," she replied with a smile. "My first year in the Corps, I was a marine, just another set of boots on the ground. I served out the rest of my hitch with the Captain, using him as my cover to move from place to place. We worked very closely together for just over four years." Pip rolled her eyes. "You didn't think I got so good at the bureaucratic crap by being a sniper, did you?"

Actually, Rossi had never even thought about it, somehow just assuming that Pip had an innate talent for it, in the same way that he _didn't_.

"And the two of you…" he started.

They were interrupted by the waiter bearing menus. Pip put hers down as soon as he'd gone and reached across the table for Rossi's hand. "We did. Once. It was a stupid thing to do, and we both agreed that it would never happen again. Stop thinking what I know you're thinking."

"I can't help it," Rossi admitted. "I'm possessive like that." Possessive enough to have done a startling amount of research into gold and diamonds recently, not that he'd mention _that_ any time soon.

"We flew to New York, we flew back, and along the way, we talked. There may have also been some therapeutic dish-breaking." Pip curled her fingers around his. "The Captain is far too honourable a man to try and step in the middle." She chuckled, the laughter brightening her face. "Not to mention he's far more scared of his wife Maria than he is of me."

"I find that hard to believe," Rossi teased, "not if he knows you as well as I do."

Pip laughed and picked up her menu again. "Ooh, squid. You never cook me squid."

Dinner ordered, they fell back into their previous habit of cheerfully arguing over a bottle of wine. It was like turning back time, and Rossi felt a weight he hadn't known he was carrying fall away. He hadn't realised how careful he'd been acting around her, ducking away from provoking her in case her shortened temper boiled over. Doing so in a perfectly safe, if not entirely controlled environment, was as pleasurable as anything else they did together. He'd missed it, and from the look on her face, so had Pip.

* * *

"So, therapeutic dish-breaking?" said Rossi as they sat on his veranda hours later, both nursing a scotch. "I've got to ask, if only out of concern for the continued well-being of my mother's best tableware."

Pip grunted. "The Captain again. He found us a handy thrift store and gave me fifty dollars to buy as many dishes and plates as I could. Then we went to the dump and I threw each and every one of them, as hard as I was able, smashed them all to bits." Pip shot him a sideways glance. "You ever go to the firing range when you're pissed off? Just let it all out, imagine the outline on the score sheet is someone you hate or someone you're trying to catch?"

"I have done," agreed Rossi slowly, starting to see where she was going. "Although these days, I imagine sharing dinner with an UnSub that's got into my head like that. Talk to them, rather than shooting them. But I know what you mean. That release of anger, fired from your barrel. Morgan does it a lot these days," he added after a moment, voicing a concern he'd been holding onto for over a month.

Morgan was grieving for Emily in his own way, namely by hunting for Doyle. All the time he couldn't find him, he was taking it out on the paper targets on the firing range. Griffin had presented Rossi a statement showing how much ammo Morgan had blown through recently, all of which came out of their budget. If they didn't find Doyle soon, they'd be down to throwing rocks at the UnSubs.

"He's getting closer, you know," said Pip casually. "I gave him everything I know on weapons and arms dealers, but he gave that angle up, now he's looking for the boy."

"I know," he reassured her. "We just have to hope Morgan finds him before Doyle does. Then we wait, make him come to us for once, rather than other way around." Rossi gestured with his hand. "We'll get him. Back to my dishes and whether I should move things to a cupboard you can't reach."

"You calling me short?"

It was worth it for the indignation. Good Lord, he'd missed that side of their relationship. Even after Alabama, and the agreement that she wouldn't pepper her sentences with "sir" instead of expletives, their exchanges had felt _less_ somehow.

"You'd prefer something different?" asked Rossi innocently. "Vertically challenged, perhaps? Would that suit better?"

Pip growled at him and Rossi just raised a bushy eyebrow at her before leaning back and pretending he hadn't noticed her ire. He was _thoroughly_ enjoying himself.

"People only grow until they're perfect," said Pip tartly, looking up and down his 5'11" frame. "Some of us didn't take long as others," she sneered.

"So, you're tiny, is that what you're saying?"

"Concentrated awesome, if you don't mind," she said, with another touch of the fire he'd missed for so long. "And don't you ever forget it."

They held each other's gaze, Pip glaring and Rossi desperately trying to keep a straight face. He failed miserably, and they burst into gales of laughter.

"That sounds like Penelope Garcia talking," Rossi remarked when they'd recovered.

Pip shrugged. "Guilty as charged." She smiled to herself and took a mouthful from her tumbler. "Your mother's china is safe. The range is one thing, but it's so controlled. What he had me do…it was far more…personal, more _primal_ than that. Naming each one for something or someone I was angry with, for whatever reason, and then telling it _why_ I was angry. My bosses, former colleagues, my parents, various foster-parents, the system, you name it. I yelled everything at these plates. Then I hurled them away, watched each of them die in a fountain of shards. I was a sobbing mess by the end, but I feel…better about it all. One day, one conversation, it isn't going to solve it, but the Captain says he'll check in with me once a week or so."

"Good." His concerns about what may have been between Pip and her Captain-now-General had been assuaged, but he'd known that it wouldn't be an instant fix. That Perez would stay in touch was reassuring.

"Perez called you Russet," commented Rossi, a few minutes later, "was that your designation?"

Pip put her glass down and considered him, for long enough that Rossi started to get nervous. Pip reached for his hand. "I want to show you something."

Rossi let her lead him through the house to her truck, parked in his driveway. He shot a confused look at her. Last time he'd seen her pickup, it had been in the FBI parking garage.

"Phillips dropped it off about an hour ago," said Pip in response to his puzzled frown, while she dug in her pocket. "While you were getting changed." She shrugged. "Figured it was still better to arrive separately tomorrow, and his latest conquest lives not too far from here. From the sound of it, he thought I was doing _him_ a favour."

He'd heard the vehicle arrive, but had dismissed it as one of his neighbours when he'd heard nothing further.

"Neither of us are fit to drive, _bella_ ," said Rossi warily. "What is it you want to show me?"

"We're not going anywhere." Pip pulled out her keys out of her pocket, along with something suspended from a leather thong. It took him a moment in the low light thrown by his driveway illumination, but Rossi quickly recognised the engraved .308 shell he'd only seen once, the night she got home.

"What I want to show you is right here," said Pip. She unscrewed the bottom of the shell and tipped it up, a small key falling into her palm.

Pip unlocked the truck and opened the rear door of the cab. She ferreted about inside, pulling up the carpet in the footwell and reached down, below the level of the floor. There was a muffled "clunk" from the back of the truck. With no explanation, Pip moved to the rear of the vehicle, where a section of the undercarriage now hung down below the level of the truckbed.

"You have hidden compartments in your truck?" Rossi asked, intrigued. "Just what was Leon driving around with for a year without knowing?"

Pip shrugged, even as she pulled out a long case from the hidey-hole. "He would never have found it, nor would anyone else without knowing where to look. That key opens a small panel under the rear seat, only accessible by pulling up the carpet. Under that panel is a lever that allows this little stash spot to drop down. I did tell you there were some additional personal touches I had put in."

"You also told me that you hoped I never had to find out what they were," noted Rossi, taking a few curious steps closer and squatting down to see the compartment more clearly. It was simple enough, a metal box shape, just large enough to take the black case that had been nestled inside. When tucked up into the bodywork, it would be near impossible to see unless you knew it was there and where to look.

Pip shouldered the case and gestured for him to follow her back into the house.

"Captain told me what a stupid idea that was, considering everything else I've already told you," she said as they retraced their steps back inside. "In retrospect, I think he was right, as he is about so much else. It's infuriating really." Pip led the way through the kitchen and into the dining room. "He said it was about time you two met," she said, putting the case down on his dining room table with a thump that made Rossi wince in sympathy for the varnish.

"Perez and I?"

Pip snorted and unclipped the case. "No. You and Angel." With quick, practiced movements, she assembled the contents. "Dave, meet Angel," she said, cocking the rifle with a flourish and holding it out to show him. "Customised M10. My personal weapon, built specifically for me, to my exact specification. Either luck or foresight in the design means I could still use it if necessary, even left-handed."

There was something incredibly sexy about the way she handled it, he couldn't deny that. Rossi reached out a tentative hand to run a finger down the length of the barrel. He wouldn't hold it, much as he'd like to, it was a beautiful thing to see. Beautiful and utterly deadly, so much like its owner.

He'd like to hold it, to fire it, but he wouldn't… _shouldn't_. He could see that much in her eyes. This gun was _hers,_ the last thing left of Pip's former life, other than the bad memories and the nightmares. She hadn't taken it with her on her most recent foray into that life; she hadn't wanted to risk losing it, because it held a special significance for her. As did their meeting, he could see that too. Pip was waiting for his condemnation, his refusal of her now she held the physical evidence of who she'd been. Even after everything, she was still worried about how he saw her.

"Impressive," Rossi said, as if he hadn't seen her fears. "A handsome bit of kit."

Her shoulders dropped in relief at his acceptance. "We've been through a lot together, Angel and I. She's been with me since the middle of my first tour. Those armoury guys know their stuff."

"And the name?"

"Hers, or mine?" asked Pip.

Rossi looked down at the weapon and back up to her face. "Both."

Pip caressed the stock. "She was named by a kid, back when I was still actually a marine. He called her " _Andeo Proizvodac_ ", which means "Angel Maker" in Serbian, although you'll have to forgive my atrocious accent, Serbian was never my strong suit. I killed the man who was holding a knife to his father's throat." Pip shrugged. "He was young enough to think that when someone died they became an angel, even if they were a jumped-up sociopathic despot overlord who should have been smothered at birth. My CO overheard and it just kind of stuck."

"As for mine," Pip rolled her eyes, "Captain hated my call-signs, both of them, and dubbed me "Russet" instead. As stupid a pun as the other two, but one more suited to his sense of humour. His family worked as undocumented labour in Los Angeles for two generations, picking apples for a cider producer. Now, he's an American citizen, and one of the most powerful men in the country. My hair was a little redder in those days, like the blush of a ripening Russet apple, he said."

"That's so lame it's not even a pun."

Pip rolled her eyes. "Don't I know it." She started disassembling the gun and repacking the pieces into their respective places in the case. It had an airtight seal, Rossi noticed, enough to keep the weapon clean and oiled while not in use.

Rossi followed her back out to her truck, where she tucked the case away back where it came from. "What were the others?" he asked curiously. "The other call-signs, the ones Perez hated," he elaborated when Pip shot him a brief questioning glance.

"Aphrodite and Herald," replied Pip, a little muffled as she fought to get the upholstery in the rear footwell to lie flat again. "Hold this for me?" She casually thrust a tactical tomahawk at him and returned to swearing at the carpeting.

Rossi decided he wasn't going to ask where she'd acquired such a weapon, or why she kept it in her truck.

"The apple reference to Aphrodite I get," he commented as they took their seats on the veranda once more, "but what about the other one?"

"You do surprise me," replied Pip with a smirk. "You sing it every year. Quite well actually, but I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket if my life depended on it." She hummed a brief fragment of music. Badly. She underestimated her ability – Pip couldn't hit a note with a bat and decent run-up.

Rossi groaned in disgust. "Really?" Pip's non-existent musical talents aside, it was a well-known hymn, and easily recognisable even through her mangling of the melody.

Pip grinned. "I did say it was a bad pun, both on my name and that of my gun. Harker the Herald, Angel sing. Not my name, but my order to fire." The grin slid off her face. "I'm glad that's not who I am anymore," she added quietly.

"It will always be a part of you. You know that, don't you?" said Rossi gently.

"Captain said that too," sighed Pip. "He also said I ought to listen to you more often, because you say exactly what he would a lot of the time."

"I like him more and more. Sounds like a very wise man."

Pip laughed and toasted him with her drink. "He should be, these days he's Psy Ops, he's one of the country's top brain-gamers. We weren't paired together by chance, even all those years ago."

Which was why he was the perfect person for Pip to talk to. Rossi chimed his tumbler with hers, the last of his worries slipping away. She was in good hands. Her Captain-turned-four-star-General knew the workings of the human mind probably better than any shrink he could have found for her. Perez would look after her in a way Rossi simply couldn't.

* * *

 _A/n: Two new chapters of Missing Conversations follow events here, for those of you reading that too. Fair warning, ch 2 of Conversations contains a spoiler for chapter 14 of Long Summer. Forestwytch_


	14. Irish Dogs of War

_Irish Dogs of War_

 _ **A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you - Elbert Hubbard**_

The team piled into the bar, laughing and joking. Perez's advice to Pip about socialising with her friends had rung true for Rossi too, and in a brief respite from the never-ending of cycle of cases he'd taken everyone out for the night. Even Reid. Sabbatical or no, he was still part of the team. It had been too long since they'd gone out together, and an evening watching Reid struggling with chopsticks had provided hours of free dinner theatre.

Looking around for a table, Rossi caught sight of a familiar figure standing at the juke box. "JP! Want to join us?" he called across the crowded room. He was having fun tonight, and as far as he was concerned, the more the merrier. If JP was there, chances were that Mark was around too, and Rossi guiltily knew it had been too long since he'd spoken to either of them.

"Oh yes, please," Rossi heard Garcia mutter to JJ behind him. "Please join us, handsome."

JP swung round with a grin. "Dave! Good to see you! Be right there!"

"Who is he?" asked JJ, as JP turned back to his perusal of the jukebox.

"John-Paul Sirro," supplied Reid. "State's Attorney. Didn't know he and Rossi were friends."

"Looks a bit like the bossman at first glance," said Morgan. JJ murmured her agreement.

Garcia coughed. "First one's on me!"

Rossi grinned as JJ leaned over to whisper in Garcia's ear. "Something you want to tell me, PG?"

His songs chosen, JP weaved his way back through to where the team were ordering their drinks. He and Rossi exchanged a one-arm hug of greeting. "Been too long, my friend," said Rossi lowly, leaving his hand resting on JP's shoulder.

It had been, Rossi had made no effort to keep up with Mark and JP while Pip was away, too wary of letting slip more than he ought to about her absence. There'd been little time since she got back, although he knew Pip had reconnected with her old friends.

"Yeah, it has." There was a flash of irritation at that, before JP covered it with a smile.

"You want to get a table with us?" offered Rossi. "Have a catch up?"

"Actually, we've already got one." JP gestured behind him, and as the rest of the profilers turned to look, he flashed Rossi a wink.

Rossi cocked his head and had a look for himself, catching sight of a mop of messy red hair. Griffin. Which meant that somewhere nearby, was Pip. JP and Mark were out with AST. Rossi nodded to him. Message received. He and Pip had socialised regularly with JP and Mark before her deployment overseas, and JP was reportedly a little smug that they'd finally realised they were more than friends. That knowledge had prompted the lawyer to warn him that Pip was part of the group he was with for the evening.

They'd have to tread carefully. It would be the first time he and Pip had been out in a social environment with a mixture of their team mates and close friends, not all of whom knew about their relationship.

JP had commandeered a large corner table next to the end of the bar, and Morgan simply dragged another one up next to it to give them all space to sit down. Initially, the divide between the two groups easy to see, with agents one side and admin staff the other. Mark provided an easy bridge between them, and after a few minutes of awkwardness, conversation flowed easily, the lines blurring.

Rossi spent about an hour chatting with JP, just enjoying the other man's company. He wouldn't have met JP if it hadn't been for Pip, but Rossi really liked him. He was smart, quick-witted and loved a good friendly argument. JP could hold up his end of a debate in a far more professional manner than Pip could, and was frustratingly adept at playing devil's advocate. Three beers and much animated hand-waving later, they laughingly agreed to accept they'd _always_ disagree about politics.

It was great to talk to JP, but always in the corner of his eye, was Pip. No matter where she moved as she circulated round the group, Rossi was always aware of her, like a radar blip on his consciousness.

* * *

The evening went on, and people shifted round the tables as conversations developed between people who wouldn't normally have socialised. Rossi looked around in satisfaction. It was good for both sides of the BAU to get together. Mark, Morgan and Phillips were having an in-depth conversation about football, Garcia and JJ were talking skin care with JP. Next to Rossi, Griffin and Reid were arguing cheerfully about some obscure mathematical theory that Rossi couldn't have pronounced even if he took a running jump at it. Whatever it was they were discussing, it might as well be in a foreign language, because Rossi couldn't understand a single word.

On his other side, was Pip. Griffin had been rather subtle about it, actually. His conversation with Reid had started while he was sitting next to Pip, and when Duffy had got up to use the bathroom, had asked his boss to shuffle up so he could move and sit next to Reid.

Which left Pip boxed in next to Rossi on the padded bench against the wall, with the bulk of Duffy more or less shielding them from Morgan, Reid and Garcia. Pip was taking full advantage of that, her hand splayed warmly across his back as they talked.

"Didn't know you were out with your lot this evening," he commented. "It's good to see them mingling with the rest of the team."

"Well, _you_ weren't around to keep me amused, so I had to find other people to play with." Her hand drifted down a little and started caressing tantalising circles across his spine.

"I hope you'll still have some energy by the time we leave, because I'm going to keep you amused all night," said Rossi, leaning back into her hand and under the table, resting his own on her thigh.

"Promises, promises," Pip chuckled.

His hand slid upwards a little. "I never make a promise I can't keep, _bella_."

"We've been flat-out for months, you fall asleep on the sofa more often than you make it to bed. I'm sure you only see your pillow when I'm there to make sure you do."

"It has been a long summer," he agreed with a sigh. Pip was right about how often he fell asleep downstairs, although he would usually wake up at some point and trudge his way to bed. He had _different_ plans for that evening, however.

"It's not over yet," muttered Pip darkly, taking a swig from her bottle of beer.

He looked down at her. That sounded a bit serious for such a casual evening. "What do you mean?"

"Morgan found him. Declan. We've got surveillance on his house and school."

Rossi turned in his seat to face her properly. "What? I never saw the paperwork for that. Who authorised it?"

Pip fidgeted a little and bit her lip. "I did."

Rossi closed his eyes with a sigh and let go of her to run a hand through his hair. "Pip, you can't do things like that."

"Well, I did," she said shortly. "You know, when someone tells me I can't do something, I always find a way." She shrugged. "It's not official, mostly remote cameras when he's not there himself."

" _Mostly_ remote cameras," replied Rossi flatly. "You want to qualify that?" he hissed, already sure he knew what the answer was.

Pip took another mouthful from her bottle. "Not really."

Rossi groaned and grit his teeth. "Pip," he growled, "tell me you haven't been sat outside Declan's house where Doyle could get to you."

"Ok, I won't. You want another round?"

She made to get up and Rossi grabbed her arm to stop her. "Not until you tell me."

"What? They're boring people with boring lives." She shrugged. "I had to let Morgan get some sleep or he'd keel over when you needed him the most. He got the cameras from me, and I took a turn or two while he perfected the routine. It was nothing." Pip pulled her arm out of his grasp and stood. "You want another drink or what?"

"Scotch." He'd been drinking beer all evening, but definitely needed something stronger after that little revelation. "Better make it a double."

Pip tweaked Griffin's ear as she squeezed passed him and the red-head bounced out of his seat to help her carry the drinks, muttering a quick "excuse me" to Reid as he did so. Mark and Duffy drifted away from the group to start a game of pool. Regardless of his frustration with Pip, Rossi had to smile. Despite picking the longest cue available, it still looked like Duffy was playing with a toothpick.

Once the surprise had worn off a bit, Rossi felt a little more at ease with Pip's assistance of Morgan. She was fine, nothing had happened to her, and it didn't sound like she had any plans to do it again. No harm done, other than to his pride, which still smarted only because she hadn't told him what she'd been doing.

It took some time for a bartender to get around to taking their order, long enough for two men to start trying to chat Pip up, much to Rossi's chagrin and Griffin's amusement. Given the proximity of their tables to the bar, Rossi could hear everything as they tried to talk to her and he didn't like the tone of it one bit. JP shifted himself round to take Duffy's place next to him, still chatting with Garcia.

"Easy tiger," he whispered in Rossi's direction, under guise of reaching across the table for his drink. "You're being obvious."

Rossi nodded and made an effort to strike up a conversation with Reid, which meant for the most part that all he had to do was nod and smile occasionally. Reid was more than capable of holding up both sides of it at once without any help. Rossi tried to keep up, but his focus was still on Pip and the two men that were getting bolder by the second.

Pip was ignoring them completely, but Griffin had obviously drunk enough that evening to be brave when the flirting turned overly sexually suggestive. "Give up guys, you got _no_ hope with this one."

The sandy-haired one of the pair curled his lip. "What would you know? You're probably still a virgin. Or queer."

"Not even close," replied Griffin smugly. "In either case."

"Well, she's not with you, is she?" retorted sandy-hair. "Nice piece of ass wouldn't go anywhere near someone with your pizza face."

Mark, who had drifted over from the pool table, laid a protective hand on Griffin's shoulder. "No need for that."

The darker-haired of the obnoxious pair sniggered. "Look, Deano. Little queer's got himself a _boyfriend_. Aw, how sweet," he sneered.

"No, actually, mine's over there with the rest of our friends," said Mark casually, gesturing behind him at JP.

Sandy-hair, whose name seemed to be Deano, made retching noises. "You _disgust_ me."

There was a lull in conversation around the bar, and the jukebox fell silent as the current song ended. Which meant that _everyone_ heard what came out of Deano's mouth next.

"Come on, Billy Ray, any bit of pussy that hangs around with faggots isn't worth it."

" _What_ did you say?" It was quietly said, but the threat was clear in Pip's voice. "You think _they're_ disgusting? And yet, that offensive word comes so naturally out of your mouth. _What. Does. That. Make. You?_ "

Rossi recognised the tone, hell, he'd been on the receiving end a few times. She'd had enough of ignoring them in the hope they'd go away, and homophobic slurs were one of the few things that had always been able take Pip from calm to raging in an instant. It was all about to go to hell in a handbasket.

JP grabbed the back of Rossi's shirt as he started to stand up, following the instinctive urge to rise to her defence. "Sit down, Dave," he muttered in Rossi's ear, "unless you want to give it all away. Mark's big enough to deal with this if she isn't."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rossi could JJ shooting him a worried look as well. He subsided, not happy.

Morgan and Phillips stood and made their way over to the bar. "Is there a problem here?" asked Morgan, folding his arms to make his shirt strain at the seams as his biceps bulged. Billy Ray glanced around worriedly, realising they were out-numbered and heavily out-muscled.

Deano, on the other hand, was either drunk enough or stupid enough to just not know when to back down. "I said, I wouldn't want to play bed games with someone who hangs around _faggots_." He looked Morgan and Phillips up and down, his lip curling. "Or negroes."

Phillips stuck an arm across Morgan's chest to hold him back, in response to Pip's quick hand gesture. Rossi grit his teeth and barely suppressed the inarticulate howl of rage that tried to claw its way up his throat. Why did she _always_ have to try and do these things herself, instead of letting others help? If it went really badly, she was armed and the two dickheads probably weren't, and she could potentially do some serious damage before someone pulled her off them. It would have been better to let Morgan flex his considerable muscles and scare them away.

Pip squared up to Deano. "Listen asshole, I'll play a game with you. It's called "Fuck Off" and I'll let you go first." There were some muted sniggers around the bar.

"I rather fuck _you_ , as long as you had a bath first."

Pip looked him up and down critically. "As if I'd want _that_. Your face is practically a criminal offence, I should have you written up for assault on the eyeballs." She snorted. "That much ugly ought to come with a fucking _health warning_."

Griffin laughed, and the increasingly nervous Billy Ray found some indignant courage on behalf of his friend, throwing a punch Griffin's way. Pip moved in front of her teammate to take it, and Griffin caught her as she stumbled from the blow. Before anyone could react, she pushed herself away from him and turned, kicking Billy Ray in the crotch as hard as she possibly could.

Billy Ray crumpled to the floor with a high-pitched squeal, clutching his wounded testicles. There was a sympathetic wince from the males in the bar watching the exchange, although all of them were tempered with the knowledge that he'd completely deserved it. Several of the people around them were even nodding, men and women alike. Mark picked up Pip and twisted, putting himself between her and her target as she tried to kick him again. She struggled futilely in Mark's firm grip, keen to keep kicking while the kicking was good.

Rossi hadn't winced, he was one of the ones nodding with grim satisfaction, but it wasn't enough. In fact, JP's grip on his arm holding him in place was going to leave bruises by morning. Rossi could feel himself thrumming with tension, desperate to see how badly she was hurt, and to wrap his hands round that skinny man's throat and _squeeze_ until his eyes popped out. _Nobody_ got away with hitting his Pip. He could barely hear JP's whispered orders to calm down through the sound of his enraged heartbeat galloping through his ears.

"You bitch! You can't do that, you cu…" Deano's words were cut off as Duffy lifted him bodily by the back of his shirt, all the way up to Duffy's eye level. Deano turned red and made indistinct choking noises as he started to strangle on his clothing. He scrabbled at his collar, frantically trying to breathe.

Rossi stopped straining against JP's hand. Mark let go of Pip, who made no move to continue her kicking campaign against Billy Ray. Even Morgan took a step back. Duffy didn't _have_ a temper as far as any of them had previously been aware, but in that moment, he looked absolutely _furious_. The big teddy bear they all recognised had transformed into a grizzly, complete with bared teeth and pant-wettingly ferocious growl.

"You finish that sentence and I will personally turn you into a greasy stain on the floor," rumbled Duffy menacingly, his usually gentle face contorted with anger. He shook the man dangling from his fist briskly. "You _do not_ talk to the boss like that." He paused, and then added belatedly, "or anyone else for that matter."

Duffy shifted his grip on the man, tucking him casually under one arm like a rolled-up carpet. Deano started to wriggle and croak expletives in protest. Duffy shook him sharply, and a shower of loose change and a baggie of suspicious-looking white powder fell out.

"Keep still, shit-for-brains, or I'll hold you for the boss so she can kick you like she did your friend," he barked. "I'm pretty sure he had to swallow hard to stop his testes coming up his _throat_." Duffy squeezed, tightening his grip around the man's middle until Deano groaned and fell limp, giving up resistance. Duffy hauled up Billy Ray by his ear, causing a whole new round of squealing from the sandy-haired idiot, who had snot and tears of pain still streaming down his face.

Duffy shook him by the shoulder until his teeth clacked together. "Quit your yapping or I'll _really_ hurt you," he threatened venomously. "You want me to hit you like you hit the boss? I could probably put you through a wall if I tried, you want to test that?"

Billy Ray looked up at the giant who had hold of him and slammed his mouth shut, biting his tongue in the process. He let out a stifled yelp, then ducked his head submissively when Duffy glared fiercely at him. Blood ran down his chin to mix with the rest of the disgusting mess he'd made of his shirt, but he made no further sound.

"What do you want me to do with the trash, boss?" Duffy might have been in the office for the casualness of the question, all sign of the startling fury gone.

Pip used a napkin to pick up the bag of drugs and tucked it back into Deano's shirt pocket. "Wouldn't want you to leave without some _more_ evidence of your utter stupidity, would we now?" she asked him sweetly, patting his face condescendingly with her hand. "Outside I think, Hank. I'm sure Metro are already on their way and I'd rather not have the stench of bigot in here while we wait for them to arrive."

"Right-o." Duffy changed his grip on Billy Ray to a fistful of the back of his shirt. It meant that breathing was dependant on his goodwill, and despite the apparent restoration of his usual demeanour, that still seemed to be in quite short supply. He marched out of the bar propelling Billy Ray in front of him, Deano still tucked under one arm. One of the bartenders darted around him to open the door, making sure he was just slow enough that it caught Billy Ray's shoulder on the way.

"Sorry sir, let me open that a little wider for you." The barman closed the door, and then opened it again, clonking Deano across the side of the head. Through the open door, Rossi could hear the approaching wail of sirens heralding the imminent arrival of Metro PD.

"That's assault," whined Deano, craning his neck so he wasn't talking to the floor. "You can't do that."

"I'm just helping you both leave, sir, because you're never coming back in here," snapped the barman. He slammed the door behind them with a note of finality, which prompted a small cheer from the rest of the patrons.

The hush that had fallen over the bar started to fill with conversation again, people's attention turning back to their own tables now that the show was over.

"Harker, you ok?" asked Morgan as Pip threw herself down next to Rossi with a huff. Rossi frantically grabbed her hand under the table. He needed to know as well, quite urgently.

"Can't stand people like that," she said, holding a cold bottle of beer against her reddened cheek. "Homophobes and racists just wind me up. Pathetic. As if we don't all bleed the same colour."

That wasn't an answer. Rossi squeezed her hand, willing her to reassure him. Pip turned to look at him briefly before casting her gaze around their assorted friends and colleagues. "I'm fine, guy punches like a four-year-old."

"Some of those pre-schoolers can get pretty rough," quipped Morgan, and the rest of the table laughed.

"Tell me about it," groaned JJ, to general amusement. "You know what hurts more though? _Lego_. There's _always_ a piece on the stairs if I'm late home after a case and trying to creep in quietly." She took a swig of her drink. "Standing on Lego in bare feet at two in the morning, trying not to scream...honestly, I think I'd rather give birth again."

"I'm fine, Dave," repeated Pip under the laughter, just loud enough for Rossi to hear. "Can I have my hand back? People can see, and I think I've lost circulation in my fingers."

Rossi let go, with a muttered apology and a quick glance around to see if anyone had spotted him clutching at her. JJ rolled her eyes at him and shook her head before standing up to welcome Duffy back.

"I think this round's on you, Duffy!" There was a chorus of good-natured teasing.

"Actually, this one is on the house," said one of the bartenders, putting down a tray of drinks. "My bouncer called in sick this evening and those two looked like trouble from the moment they walked in." He looked up at Duffy. "You want a job, big guy? It's yours."

Duffy flushed. "Got one thanks," he muttered, catching Pip's eye. "Best job in the world."

Pip raised her bottle to him in acknowledgement. "Just don't go all Incredible Hulk in the office, you'll cause a stampede as all those highly-trained agents run screaming for cover."

There was a round of laughter from AST and some hastily stifled half-hearted objections from the agents, which just made AST laugh even harder.

"Unless one of them hurts you, boss," demurred Duffy as the laughter faded. " _Nobody_ hurts the boss." His eyes slid around the group, resting on Rossi for a fraction of a second before moving on, the subtle message clear.

That answered that question, at least. Duffy knew about them. Pip's team all knew of Rossi's relationship with her, and one way or another, had all given him their tacit approval. Along with a series of big-brotherly type warnings about the potential consequences of hurting her.

"Oh, no danger of that," said Morgan with a grin, gripping Duffy's shoulder. He had to reach up to do so, even though Duffy was sitting down. "I think word of your alter-ego is gonna spread, my man."

Duffy groaned and hid behind his hands, and the rest of them laughed. He looked over at Pip again. "Boss, Metro want a word, but I told them you'd deal with it on Monday."

Pip nodded gratefully. "Are _you_ ok?" she asked in Rossi's ear as everyone settled back into their seats. Duffy was centre of attention now, something the usually so reserved man obviously wasn't entirely comfortable with.

Rossi nodded, before excusing himself to the bathroom. Actually, now that it was all over, he was feeling a bit worse for wear. On top of the beer, the rage and adrenaline had left him more than a little light-headed. He leant over clutching a sink, just hanging his head and willing the after-effects away. When that didn't work, he ran some cold water, repeatedly splashing his face with it. When he straightened up, JP was behind him, holding out a handful of paper towels. Rossi hadn't even heard him come in.

"You alright?"

Not really, and his jaw ached like a bitch from clenching his teeth. Rossi turned to lean back against the sink and let out a deep breath, accepting the towels. "Thanks," he muttered, patting his face dry. JP just raised an eyebrow and Rossi looked away, uncomfortable that the other man had seen just how unsettled he was. "Been better," he admitted.

JP nodded. "I figured as much." He flexed his arm and hand as if it pained him. "Didn't think I was going to be able to hold you down much longer."

Rossi huffed out a rueful sigh. "Wasn't really thinking." It wasn't exactly an apology, but they knew each well enough that he could be sure JP would take it that way.

JP inclined his head. "I could see that," he retorted drily. "Charging to her defence in an enraged territorial display? Yeah, that would have _really_ helped you keep your team in the dark."

"Why does she always have to wade _right_ into the thick of things?" snapped Rossi, balling up the damp paper towels angrily. He slammed them into the bin as hard as he could, and then kicked it for good measure. It didn't help, so Rossi turned back to the mirror and glared at his reflection as if it had offended him.

JP snorted. "Because she's wilfully independent and her temper runs as hot as yours. Believe me, I know just how that feels." He moved to examine himself in the mirror, primping his hair so it lay just so.

Rossi wasn't fooled for a minute, and easily caught the sideways glance the other man shot him from the corner of his eye. JP turned and leaned back against the sink, folding his arms.

"Last two long-term relationships I had were with an accountant and the owner of an antique bookstore. Nice guys, both of them, but ultimately…a little dull." JP shrugged. "I might not like the idea that Mark carries a gun and puts himself in harm's way for a living, but he isn't dull." JP shot him a cheeky wink. "He's not the type to just lay back and take it, y'know?"

That startled a bark of laughter from Rossi. Sounded like Mark and Pip had more in common than he'd given them credit for. He nodded and shifted so he could lean against the sinks too.

"But sometimes…" continued JP, "sometimes, you have to let them fight their own battles. About eighteen months ago, a new guy joined Mark's team, a more senior agent. Mark's doing well in Narcotics, but he's got his career ahead of him, he's low down on the totem pole still. He's never hidden what he is at work, quite right too, in my opinion; the closet isn't a nice place to be." JP twitched his shoulders uncomfortably. "But that's a whole different story. This guy…he's Mark's immediate superior and he set out to make his life a misery for being gay. Something about religious principles. It was never enough to cross the line into something he could be reported for, but it was the cumulative effect, you know? Got so bad that I wanted Mark to transfer out, I was on him for months trying to convince him to make the move elsewhere. We had some _spectacular_ rows over it."

"What happened?" asked Rossi when JP hesitated.

"Bust went bad, and Mark got shot saving the asshole's life."

"He got shot? I never knew," breathed Rossi.

"No," said JP shortly, "you didn't." Rossi could see the anger in the flat expression on JP's face. "You weren't really around much last year, Dave, and you and I will talk about that at some point in the not-too-distant future." JP sighed. "But not here, and not now." He waved a hand. "It was minor, as gunshot wounds go, through and through and he's none the worse for it. Point is, he dealt with it in his own way - now they're practically brothers. Paul is in charge of planning our joint stag party."

Rossi's eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't…ah, congratulations."

"Thank you. You missed that bit of news too, didn't you?" JP flashed him a dark look. "I think that discussion we need to have ought to be sooner rather than later, don't you?"

"You want a nightcap?" offered Rossi. "I've had my fill of this place, I've got plenty of spare rooms and a bottle of single malt with our name on it." He'd all but promised he'd pin Pip to his bed when they got home, but talking to JP seemed to take precedence.

JP grinned. "Now you're talking." He cocked his head. "You realise you're probably going to wake up tomorrow with my handprint round your arm, don't you?"

"Small price to pay," muttered Rossi. "Thanks," he added a little louder. "I mean it, especially considering…"

JP shrugged and flapped a hand. "Don't mention it." He nudged Rossi's shoulder with his own. "Come on, we ought to get back out there before someone decides I'm trying to seduce you or something."

They were still laughing as the bathroom door closed behind them.


	15. Webs

_Webs_

 _ **Patterns cannot be weighed or measured. Patterns must be mapped - Fritjof Capra**_

Rossi settled into his sofa with a scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. JP had admitted a weakness for a good cigar on the cab ride back to the mansion, and Rossi was more than happy to add an expensive, if somewhat questionable cigar or two to the scotch he'd offered to share. With Pip shouldering the task of getting a very wobbly Griffin home, and Mark planning to hit the clubs with Garcia and Morgan, the two men had his house to themselves.

"So, when's the big day?"

JP grinned like a lunatic. "Six months. It's kinda scary, actually."

Rossi took a swallow of his drink. "I've done it three times, it doesn't get easier with practice, trust me. Although I have to say, I remember very little of the last ceremony."

"Sounds like there's a story there," replied JP with a smirk, puffing happily on his cigar.

"You have no idea," muttered Rossi. "I was in Vegas, on the winning streak of my life and swimming to the eyeballs in scotch." He chuckled at the memory. "I won everything I touched that night, if I'd bet on a zombie apocalypse or alien invasion, trust me, there would have been one."

JP laughed along with him. "I woke up the next morning," continued Rossi, "with the world's worst hangover, married to my card dealer from the night before. I remember we were married by an Elvis impersonator, and that I won her ring out of a gum ball machine, but very little other than that. We had the marriage annulled the following afternoon, once we'd both sobered up."

JP roared with laughter. "Maybe better you don't remember it."

"You're probably right," admitted Rossi. "Good for you, though. I remember Pip telling me years ago that he thought you two would stay together."

"His track record was a little intimidating," said JP with a knowing smirk, and Rossi chuckled. His own record wasn't exactly stellar either, something JP knew. "But I couldn't imagine a more perfect guy for me." JP shrugged. "Good to see you two finally noticed you were perfect for each other too, something I'd known for a long time," he commented. "I was starting to wonder if you'd _ever_ get around to telling each other how you felt. You so were so fucking oblivious it _hurt_."

Rossi decided firmly that he wasn't blushing. Really, he wasn't. The heat on his face was down to the scotch. Definitely. He drank a little more of it, just to make sure.

"Speaking of things done before…you've been married three times," started JP casually, "when's the fourth?"

Rossi choked on his next mouthful and JP laughed. "Oh, you are just _too_ easy sometimes," he said with a smirk. "I was kidding, but now you've got me all intrigued. Spill."

"Ah, you know all there is to know," spluttered Rossi, still trying to clear his throat. "She's still resisting moving in with me, I dare not mention it yet."

"Baby steps, yeah, I know how that feels." JP raised his tumbler in salute. "Mark got posted to Brazil, just after we met. I was lovesick all the time he was away, when he got back it took us a few months to reconnect while he sowed some wild oats. Took me ages to convince him to move in. I was far more into the idea of "us" than he was, to start with at least. Commitment issues is an understatement, but it all stemmed from low self-esteem."

Sounded like there were some similarities there. "What tipped the balance?" asked Rossi, wondering if he could pick up any tips.

"Him getting shot," said JP darkly. "I was in court that day, and I get this panicked phone call from Paul the asshole just as we recessed for lunch. He changed his tune pretty fast, I can tell you. Despite the treatment he'd been getting, Mark never hesitated to throw himself in the firing line to knock Paul safely to floor in the middle of a gunfight. Opened Paul's eyes a bit about his previous attitude I think, but obviously that was the last thing on my mind at the time. I went to see the judge, got a continuance and broke just about every speed limit getting to the hospital."

JP paused to take a sip of his scotch. "By the time I got there, Mark was already bandaged up and making jokes. After the sick terror I'd felt on the drive over, that just made me furious. I yelled at him for nigh-on twenty minutes for scaring me and he just sat there with this bemused smile on his face. When I ran out of both words and oxygen, he took my hand and said he'd move in if that's what I wanted. He said if I cared enough to be that frightened, he was willing to let go of some insecurities about his past." JP rolled his eyes ruefully. "That stunned me _completely_ into silence, something he _still_ finds funny."

Rossi chuckled. JP not having something to say was an unlikely as Pip being in the same state. "I know she's not ready, it's not like I've got a ring waiting or anything." Not that he hadn't been looking. "I'm still navigating the nuances, the changes between us since we took that final step away from being just friends. I've been in love with her for so long, but it's all still a bit new for her I think."

"You hurt her, and there'll be queue of people waiting to pummel you into the ground, you do know that, don't you?" It was a serious question, none of the cheerful open smile that characterised JP's usual sunny attitude.

Rossi rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. I had that conversation with Hotch before he went abroad in May, and each of her team mates in the time since."

"Yeah, why is that?" asked JP a little sternly. "You didn't return my calls, then you stopped showing up to our once a month coffee chats. Nearly a year, and I still hear from Pip before you. I hear about you two from _her,_ not you. I thought we were friends, Dave."

"We are," insisted Rossi. This version of the conversation was harder than the one he'd had with Hotch, because Hotch knew some of the background. "It was a…a tough year. I retreated. From you, from Hotch, from all my friends. I didn't single you out." He shifted uneasily. "Wasn't my finest hour."

"You can say that again," replied JP, considering Rossi over his tumbler. "What happened to you? One minute we were practically double-dating, although I know you two hadn't actually got your act together at that point, and then suddenly you were both gone."

"It's a little complicated," said Rossi, not sure where to start, and how much he should say. It wasn't his story, but Pip's, and it was still classified.

"I know."

JP sounded completely assured of that, and Rossi narrowed his eyes, realising JP was fishing for answers, trying to verify how much _he_ knew. " _What_ do you know?" he asked suspiciously. He could see from the way JP relaxed that he'd shown more of his hand than intended, but it didn't seem to matter because JP himself obviously knew _enough_.

"Dave, you remember who I am and where I work?" asked JP wearily. "I'm a _lawyer_ , an influential one on track to be top of the food chain one day. I work with lots of other lawyers, some of whom are almost as good as I am."

Rossi rolled his eyes. "Humble, too," he muttered.

JP just smirked in response. "I work with lawyers and my friends are mostly lawyers. Some of those people work for very powerful, very highly-placed people, and some work for the alphabet agencies. Some do both at the same time. I hear things, lawyer to lawyer; lots of people want to be on my good side, I'm in line to be Attorny General this time next year, you know." JP grinned. "I'm sure Pip is horrified by that, it's a title synonymous with Satan as far as she's concerned."

He took a mouthful of scotch before continuing. "I figured out Pip was off on some classified something or other less than a month after she disappeared. I _never_ figured out why you just vanished, despite still being at the BAU." JP paused, as if debating whether to continue. "You know, when you stopped calling, I actually asked around, to make sure you weren't dead and no one had told me." He gave Rossi what looked like a casual shrug, yet was anything but. "I stopped trying after that, I didn't want to force friendship on someone who didn't seem to want it."

Ouch. That stung, and Rossi took a swallow of his scotch to try and soothe it. " _I_ would have done better if I'd done things a little differently, I'll admit that. Both with you and Hotch. I'm not sure how it would have gone for her though, so I stand by what I did. Pip…she told me more than she should have, the night she left. I wasn't sure I could keep it all to myself, so I stopped talking to people."

"You think if I didn't know _something_ , I would have just ignored the fact that Pip had just dropped off the map?" asked JP. "I'd have been in your office within a fortnight when Mark or I hadn't heard from her. Not realising _that,_ was the _first_ time you were an idiot. I think there were several more instances, but that was the first."

There were very few people who could get away with calling him that, Pip being one of the small select group. Having something so blindingly obvious pointed out made Rossi decide that perhaps JP had earned his membership to the exclusive club, and rolled his shoulders in grudging agreement.

"Seems to me that actually, you could have done with a friend, one not connected to work. Instead you hid yourself away," JP added. "Not realising that was _second_ time you were an idiot."

"You're tedious when you're right all the time, you know that?" said Rossi. "And you are right. I really could have done with your company, especially when…" He stopped and shook his head. "No, not going down that road," he muttered into his scotch as he drained the tumbler.

"What road, Dave?" JP leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, peering at Rossi intently. He discarded his empty tumbler absently on the coffee table as if it were suddenly unimportant. "What's wrong? What's got you all wound up all of a sudden?"

The curiosity was overladen with concern, and that just made Rossi feel worse about the way he'd treated their friendship. JP was _worried_ about him, same as he had been in the bar earlier. JP might be a lawyer, but he wasn't a profiler. Rossi relaxed his guard whenever in his company, same as Pip did. As a friend outside the Bureau, JP simply saw enough to know when something was up.

He _was_ wound up, just remembering that day. That conversation with JJ and the desolation he'd felt when she'd left him in his office, a broken man. Hunched in his seat, heart pounding, Rossi could feel the same tightness in his chest and shortness of breath he'd felt then. He could see the white-fingered grip he had on his tumbler and the clenched fist at his side. The cigar was safely in the ashtray or he'd have snapped it in two.

"Middle of March, I got word she was dead," he blurted, unable to contain the pressure. The release of tension made something else rush up behind it. "It nearly killed me."

JP blinked, frozen in silent shock. Rossi could see why Mark still teased his fiancé about that expression. For such an intelligent man, it made JP look like a drooling imbecile.

"Hadn't heard _that_ ," JP breathed finally. "Holy hell." He ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck and leaned back in the armchair to study the ceiling for a moment. "Feel a bit of ass giving you a hard time now, but not coming to talk to me then, that was the third time you were an idiot."

"Neither of us were supposed to know she'd gone in the first place, how was I supposed to explain her death?" said Rossi crossly.

JP stood to refill their tumblers without so much as a by-your-leave, sitting next to Rossi on the sofa when he returned. "I don't mean to tell me about Pip. I mean to talk to me about grief in general. Your team lost another member around the same time I believe." JP offered Rossi a smile. "I did keep tabs on you a little, I'll admit. I knew Pip being away would be hard, given how close you were."

Rossi sat back with a groan. So convinced he was doing the right thing, that there was no one he could turn to without compromising Pip, he'd missed the one person who _had_ been there, watching him quietly.

"I'd have assumed your heartache was for your fallen teammate unless you'd told me otherwise," said JP. "The same as your colleagues, because you obviously had them fooled."

"Not as much as I thought I had," said Rossi quietly. "Hotch…well I don't know." He didn't actually. It was something he wondered in the night sometimes. Was it that Hotch had seen more than he'd let on, or had it been a little jealousy, thinking that Rossi was so upset over Emily? "He knew something was off, but yes, I had them fooled."

"So, you could have reached out." JP said, a little smugly. "Say it: "JP, I'm an idiot"."

There was no getting around it, he had been. Retrospectively, Rossi could see several turns he could have taken instead of forging straight ahead. Maybe he wouldn't have suffered so much if he'd deviated from his single-minded course. "JP, I'm an idiot."

"Oh, _definitely_ ," said JP emphatically, enough to make them both laugh a little, lightening the mood. "And a lucky one, I'd say, because it all seems to have shaken itself out and come out the right way up. She's home now, and clearly quite lively, if that incident in the bar this evening is anything to go by."

Rossi just rolled his eyes. Pip had surprised him a little, because she wasn't the type to hold back. Billy Ray had got off easy.

"She popped up on Mark's voicemail about ten days ago," continued JP, "having been home for months without telling us. You, you never made contact. And you still haven't talked to anyone about that year made you feel, have you?" he asked shrewdly. "Even now she's home and you don't have to hide, you're still doing it. You missed her, you _mourned_ her, and now you're together." He took a measured sip of his scotch. "Got to be some issues there."

"I don't need my head shrunk, especially not by a lawyer drinking my scotch and smoking my Cubans," said Rossi, a little more curtly than JP really deserved.

"Get your head out of your ass, Dave," said JP easily. "You're just pissed because I'm right again. And that right there, was the fourth time you were an idiot. I'm sitting here offering a willing ear, you dumb sonofabitch."

Rossi exhaled heavily. Much as he appreciated the sentiment behind the offer, he wasn't good at talking about _feelings_. He was built in an age when that kind of behaviour just wasn't the done thing for a man. Italians were passionate, yes, but _feelings_ were women's territory. Despite the benefits proven by modern medicine. His venting over cases or past history with Pip was different, because what JP was talking about was about Pip herself, and what she'd put him through.

"You ever think that maybe all the macho bullshit is the reason why one of the biggest killers of men is suicide?" noted JP quietly when Rossi said nothing. "The Brits call it the "stiff upper lip", I've heard variations of "suck it up, son" from plenty of people over the years. As men, we don't talk, and it's killing us, literally, in our millions."

"Just when did you get so fucking wise and I didn't notice?" said Rossi irritably.

"Some point in the year you ignored me," said JP sharply. "Maybe if you'd been around, it wouldn't be so much of a shock."

"You're going to keep digging with that, aren't you?" barked Rossi. "What do you want? An apology? You've got one. I'm sorry, I'm a stubborn old bastard and I'm not about to change. My scotch?" he gestured roughly in the direction of the drinks cabinet with his tumbler, spilling some on his hand in the process. "You've got that too, feel free to help yourself, why don't you?" he sneered. "Hell, have yourself another cigar that'll get you disbarred while you're at it. Damage is done now! You want a favour for stopping me doing something stupid earlier? Fine, what else?" Rossi stopped, breathing hard and heart thumping.

JP raised an eyebrow and took a pointedly measured draw on the cigar in question. "Feel better for letting that out?"

"Not really."

JP snorted, as if he'd known that already. "What I want is for you to realise just how stupid you are," he said, "because I think you still don't get it," he added before Rossi could get a word in. "We're in this together." JP gestured vaguely with his drink. "It's _her_. Pip. She's this…I can't explain it. She _captivates_. It's like we're all tangled up around her somehow."

"A web," Rossi murmured dazedly, shocked that he hadn't seen it before. That's how Pip had described her previous employment, and the shoe fitted. In a new environment, she'd continued her old ways, making acquaintances, doing favours and stacking them up, learning secrets. Manipulating the world around her by being indispensable, personally and professionally, to a select group of people.

"Yes, that's it, exactly," replied JP a little excitedly. "A _web_. And we're in this web, you and I, along with Mark and Griffin and Duffy and Phillips. All of us. Her friends. She lures you in with her glamour and binds you with her love, and then the only way to survive is to keep still and not struggle. We have to stick together, you and I, and _talk_ to each other, because her team are loyal to her and so is Mark. Sometimes to her detriment, like this evening. I saw her tell Jackson to stop Derek intervening, and he did it without hesitation." JP shook his head. "Such loyalty is admirable, but I think there'll come a time when they obey, when they should question."

Hotch was in the web too, although Rossi was probably the only one who knew it. Pip thought the world of Hotch, and because of that, his place alongside them was assured. Rossi had known of the spell she wove, it had taken Duffy three days to succumb, but Phillips and Griffin had fallen in a matter of hours. Rossi mentally rolled his eyes. It had been almost instant for him.

"I met someone like her once," JP said softly. "Worst thing I ever did was let him go. It's like riding a tiger, Dave. It's better to keep a firm grip and go along for the ride, because the rewards can be huge and getting off can be hazardous for everyone's health. Pip…she's something else. Hang on, for fuck's sake, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Trust me on that."

"Old boyfriend?" asked Rossi. There was the ring of some tragic history there.

"No, my college roommate actually." JP snorted. "Oh, he was going places. He had it all mapped out and he wanted to take us with him." He smiled at the memories. "There was five of us, all close. Proper little gang of hellions, and he was leader of the pack. We all loved him and would have done anything for him, so final year we laid the foundations of our plans, building his dream. But when it came to it…" He shook his head a little sadly. "We all ducked out, every last one of us. After college I went to law school, he went his own way, just like he'd always said he would. He tried to do it all by himself, and it killed him. He worked himself into a fatal heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-six. I still think if we'd stuck by him, it would have worked." He looked over at Rossi seriously. "I'm not going to let go this time, Dave, no matter what it costs."

"I'm not either," Rossi reassured him. "I don't want to."

"So, you and I need to work on your communication," replied JP smartly, draining his tumbler once more. "You still pissy about me helping myself, or do you want one too?" he asked teasingly, holding his hand out for Rossi's empty.

Rossi handed his tumbler over willingly. "I was busy being an idiot for the fifth time and you kindly refrained from pointing that out. We'll call it even," he said with a cautious smile that JP returned. Rossi breathed easily. In the time since he'd last seen JP, he'd forgotten just what good company he was, and it seemed the rift between them had been more of a shallow ditch than a deep chasm, and quickly bridged.

"I had a case that hit me hard, and I realised I needed to talk to someone," said JP over his shoulder, busy pouring their drinks. "That was the real answer to your question. I recognise the look of someone needing to talk, because I saw it in the shaving mirror every day for months. I've swotted up on trauma psychology since, _know thyself_ is as good a reason as any I've heard yet, and I figured you'd show up eventually to benefit from it too."

"You might as well bring the bottle over here if you're going to insist on prying," groaned Rossi, barely loud enough for the other man to hear. He wasn't comfortable in the slightest with where their discussion was going, and it seemed there was no way out other than scotch-assisted oblivion.

"Got to get the armour off somehow or you'll cook in it," said JP absently, settling himself back on the sofa with bottle in one hand and their tumblers in the other. "Pip did that for you, while she was here, and I like to think I had some small input too. Now she's back, you just want to move on, but it isn't that simple. Even the Mistress of Secrets is talking to _someone_ , what makes you think you escaped unscathed?"

Rossi just grunted, busy re-lighting his abandoned cigar.

"How far down did you get?" pressed JP, "because you have the look of a man who's been climbing back up for so long he doesn't really know how deep he was."

Rossi took a puff on his cigar, blowing smoke rings to stall for time. "Long way," he muttered eventually. "Too far."

"You try anything stupid?" asked JP softly, voice full of concern. "More stupid than not talking to your friends, I mean?" he added, trying to sound a little more teasing.

"No." Rossi squirmed a little inside. He hadn't tried to dodge the bullet aimed at him, outside that darkened warehouse. "Didn't exactly try avoid it either, though."

"You don't just wake up from that one day and everything's ok," said JP seriously. "People don't work like that, Dave, hell, you should know that better than I do. How many cases have you seen over the years where a traumatic event comes back as a trigger for someone?"

"Most of them, one way or another," admitted Rossi. "Everyone has their demons."

"True. Who'd have thought the D.C.'s best lawyer kept himself padlocked in the closet until he was approaching thirty? Last year, I prosecuted a case against a guy about that age who'd shot up a gay bar because he wanted to go in but couldn't, in case someone saw him. Killed five people and almost himself, except he messed up the suicide shot. Made me wonder if I'd have flipped out if I hadn't emerged, and yet I practically climbed back in voluntarily after he was convicted. Took me some time, and some talking, to get myself back together."

For someone so obviously at home in their own skin, that admission came as a surprise; later, Rossi would wonder if that had been the point. To shock him into responding. Intended or not, it worked.

"I stared down the barrel of a loaded gun and hoped it would go off." The words emerged without any conscious thought on Rossi's part, the filter between brain and tongue apparently offline for the moment. It was like hearing someone else speak, his mouth not under conscious control. "Nearly three months after I was told she was dead, I stood there, welcoming it because it meant I'd see her again. Everything I saw reminded me of her. I drank too much, because that way I could sleep without seeing her in my dreams and waking up sobbing when I realised it wasn't real. I worked myself to exhaustion for the same reason, and when I stood there with that gun in my face, all I could feel was relief that it was finally over."

JP cuffed him round the back of the head, then grabbed Rossi's shoulder tightly. "It's when things are that bad is when you _need_ a friend, you stubborn bastard. Next time don't leave it so fucking long to talk to me." JP released him and reloaded their tumblers. "That sounds about as close to rock bottom as you can get. What happened?"

"Morgan killed her, and I walked away without a scratch. It took a while to decide I was relieved rather than disappointed that I survived that little encounter, and that shocked me a little. Then suddenly Pip was back, I ended up as interim Unit Chief while our boss went on assignment in Afghanistan and then the rollercoaster _really_ got going. Between the workload and various disasters, I haven't been able to stop long enough to really have time to think."

"Seems like your feet haven't hit the ground yet," commented JP. "Disasters? Something I should know?"

Rossi snorted. "The night before the first case we had with me as Chief, Pip got dragged into a mission in Europe. She gets back, I drag her into the field against her objections and she gets shot. She was wearing a vest," he added in response to JP's sharply indrawn breath, "but she broke a rib and was a mass of bruises. She was absolutely furious with me. Then I got all banged up chasing someone _much_ faster and was black and blue all over as well. On top of that, we're averaging almost two cases a week recently, each taking longer to solve than the last because we're all exhausted trying to do the work of a whole profiling team between three of us."

"So, you're running on empty and still dragging it around with you like a dirty secret."

Rossi nodded distractedly and sighed. "Then New York happened. That was just a nightmare from start to finish. One of those cases that turns your stomach even years later." Rossi caught JP nodding from the corner of his eye. "I had a gun pointed at my face again, and I couldn't do anything about it. She genuinely got the drop on all of us, we didn't see her for what she was. I walked away shaken, both by the similarities and the experience itself, but unharmed. Again."

He took a medicinal mouthful of scotch. "Then Griffin's apartment burned down, he's now living in the same building as Pip. Trouble is, I didn't tell Pip about what had happened in New York, and I'd forgotten she'd read about it in the file. I didn't want to worry her, and thought I was doing the right thing, right up until Griffin reminded me two days later that she'd find out anyway. I told her about it that evening." He snorted. "It didn't go well."

"Because you were still trying to work through the last time something like that happened. You've talked to Pip about this?" asked JP, with a considering expression.

"Not in quite so much detail," admitted Rossi, "the bare bones of it. She had enough to deal with, still does, without adding my load to wagon."

"You're doing it again," said JP with a smile. "Hiding. She knows you better than I do and look how much I saw. You need to talk to her, Dave, as well as me. This is all about Pip in the end, what that year was like for you without her. How what happened affected you, is still affecting you, is something she should know."

"We did, when she first got back," objected Rossi. It wasn't like the subject had been ignored between them. "I took her to my cabin at Little Creek for three weeks and while we were there, we talked. A _lot_."

"Her side of things, or yours? Because I know you well enough to know you'd put her wellbeing before yours in a heartbeat."

Rossi ran those three weeks through his mind at fast forward then groaned and leaned his head back against the sofa. "Both, but mostly hers. I think I liked you better when you weren't so damn perceptive."

JP chuckled. "What are friends for, if not to know us?"

"To drink their scotch and smoke their cigars," said Rossi, with a teasing sideways glance at his friend, tumbler in hand, puffing merrily on his illegal cigar. "I draw the line at penis-themed stag parties, however."

"Spoilsport," said JP with a smirk. "How does four days in Hawaii sound instead? I know you can't predict work, but there's two seats on the plane with your names on if you can make it. Rather than traditional stag parties, we're having a sort pre-ceremony honeymoon with our friends. Paul's idea."

Rossi's tumbler paused mid-journey en route to his mouth. "Both of us?" he asked, a little startled.

JP winked. "She's friends with Mark, you are with me, nobody will be any the wiser. Fancy a romantic break together under guise of a friend's pre-nuptial blowout?"

"Yes please," said Rossi quickly, much to JP's amusement.

"Ah yes, the honeymoon period where you can barely keep your hands off each other," he sniggered. "With that in mind," he drained his tumbler, "I've imposed on your hospitality long enough. I'm going to take my leave, I'm sure she's still up if you want to share my cab part way." JP dug in his pocket for his cell. "I do love these new apps," he commented, tapping away on his smartphone. "Car is five minutes away."

Rossi shook his head. "I don't really want to leave the dog. His dinner's only half eaten and he barely bothered to come and see who you were. I've already left a message with the vet asking for an appointment Monday morning."

"Then phone her and let her know I'm leaving. I'm telling you, she's still awake and waiting for you to call."


	16. The Path of No Return

_A/n: FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff (love that btw): we all need a Hank Duffy, the Duffy's of the world make it a better place. If you find one, hang to him, they're brilliant fun_

* * *

 _The Path Of No Return_

 _ **The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs - Charles de Gaulle**_

Pip _had_ been awake and waiting for him to call, and Rossi heard her let herself in barely half an hour after JP had gone.

Rossi was only half way across the room to greet her when Pip appeared in the doorway, wearing only a sultry smile and a lace and silk camisole under her overcoat. Beautiful and _tiny_ , it barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, and clung to her like a second skin. Her glorious hair, usually bound up out of the way, cascaded over her shoulders. She dropped her backpack at her feet. "Thought I'd never get you alone this evening," she purred, striking a provocative pose.

Rossi was on her in a flash, his hands thrust deep in her chestnut waves and lips claiming hers. He delved under the coat, shrugging it off her shoulders. Task complete, he ran his hands up and down her sides, before inching their way under the lacy hem at the bottom. Instead of more lace, his fingers teased into silken heat. "You've got nothing on underneath," he groaned wonderingly as they parted for air. "You little hussy," he whispered in her ear, pushing deeper with his fingers before withdrawing, starting a rhythm that made her moan. "You got a cab over here all _exposed_." He ground himself against her hip as Pip whimpered, his fingers moving faster. "That got you all excited, didn't it?" He thrust harder as Pip practically tried to impale herself on his hand. "Oh _bella_ , so fucking sexy," he growled and fastened his teeth on that point on her neck that always made her knees go weak.

Pip stuttered out his name and pulsed around his hand, tensing completely before going limp in his arms. "Oh...wow…can't feel my legs," she panted.

"Don't need to," said Rossi huskily. "You, sofa, now."

There wasn't enough self-control in the world for him to be able to make it all the way upstairs after the way things had started, but Rossi reckoned he could get as far as the living room. Probably. If they moved quickly.

* * *

Rossi drifted into awareness the following morning still thinking about the silky thing he'd _thoroughly_ enjoyed peeling from Pip's body the night before. They had made it to bed eventually, but there had been a couple of stops along the way. He turned over to snuggle up against her, with every intention of showing her just how enticing he found thoughts of that particular little item. After dreaming of it, he was rampant and raring to go, morning breath be damned.

Pip wasn't there, and there was a frustrated insistent throb from his groin. Where was she? Rossi rolled on his back, hissing as the sheets dragged across sensitised flesh. He thrust them off roughly. His hand drifted down, just to rub a little, just to ease the ache. He closed his eyes at the temporary relief, and that was a huge mistake. Unbidden, images of green silk against Pip's skin bombarded him and Rossi's hand tightened, starting to roll up and down in a well-practiced familiar motion. He groaned, thinking of her spasming around his hand, the same one he was using. He moved faster, adding the odd twist to the movement to hurry things along.

"You started without me," said Pip mintily in his ear and Rossi's eyes flew open, hand stilling. The waft of toothpaste explained her brief absence, at least. She knew he had an over-developed sense of smell and there was nothing quite like morning breath to put a dampener on things.

He'd been so lost in what he was doing, he'd not noticed her return. Her pupils were widely dilated and shone with lust, and she stood next to the bed one hand twisting a nipple and the other working at the apex of her thighs. "Want some help?" she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Pip straddled him and sank down, taking him all the way in one movement.

Rossi's head slammed back into the pillow with sheer sensory overload. Every nerve was on fire, his fingers and toes twitching of their own volition. He hadn't been far from the end when she'd crept up on him and her sudden action had brought him right to the brink. Her walls fluttered around him, generating just enough sensation to keep him there. It was an indescribably pleasurable torture, just hanging there…nearly...almost...

"God, Pip, please," he managed. He needed her to move, he was going out of his mind. He was so close it _hurt_.

Pip started to rock against him and leaned over, capturing both his nipples; one between finger and thumb, the other between her teeth. The combination of her movement on him and the twin sharp points of pleasure/pain catapulted him over the edge and for a moment, Rossi was sure he could see sparks. He was still coming down as Pip let out a satisfied groan and fell limp against him.

"Morning," he murmured in her ear several minutes later, once his heart-rate had calmed to merely fast instead of tachycardic. He blew out a sharp puff of air to try and get her hair off his face. It didn't work. "Your hair is trying to smother me."

"How romantic," she mumbled sarcastically and half-slid, half-rolled off him.

Rossi chuckled and gathered her close. "Your hair is as mad as the rest of you."

Pip just hummed and snuggled against him. Rossi decided the inevitable clean up could wait, because he wasn't sure his legs would support his weight. Some experimental shifting confirmed that someone had replaced all the bones below his hips with over-cooked spaghetti, and he dragged the covers back over them both.

They dozed for a little while, and woke sticky and uncomfortable. "I'll put the coffee on," muttered Pip, shrugging into a dressing gown. "That way you can organise breakfast while I'm in the shower."

Rossi would have preferred to lounge in bed if it meant she was in it with him. It had been far too long since they'd had a long Saturday morning in bed. That said, coffee sounded like a wonderful idea, and he knew Pip would have put some her special blend in her trusty bag before venturing out into the night wearing nearly nothing. Rossi rolled out of bed with a groan and wandered his way in the direction of the shower. In Pip's opinion, breakfast meant bacon, although it wasn't like she needed an excuse. Bacon at any time of the day was fine with her.

Lazy thoughts of loafing around doing pretty much nothing except each other were rudely interrupted by Pip's sharp cry of dismay. Rossi was down the stairs naked and gun in hand before he knew he was moving.

Pip was standing in the kitchen and turned to bury her head in his shoulder when she sensed his entrance. Instinctively, he protectively curled his arm around her, still looking for the source of her upset.

His kitchen was rather a mess, a product of their eventful evening together. A half-full glass of wine rested on the counter next to the empty bottle. Open bags of chips and dip lay scattered about, along with two abandoned cups of coffee. But it wasn't the mess that had upset her.

Over the top of her head, Rossi could see his faithful elderly hound in his bed, head resting on his paws as he always slept. But he wasn't asleep; there was no steady respiration, no inquisitive ear cocked to see if there might be bacon scraps in the offing. Mudgie had gone peacefully in his sleep, sometime in the early hours of the morning after he and Pip had finally made it upstairs. The bright eyes that had clouded a little of late, would open no more. The tail, which never seemed to stop moving, was forever stilled. Rossi felt his eyes fill with tears. The gun got tossed absently on the counter next to the chips, so he could wrap his other arm around Pip and bury his face in her hair.

They buried Mudgie in the garden, taking it in turns to dig. Rossi had chosen a sheltered spot in his flower border. It had been favourite place of Mudgie's for a mid-afternoon nap in the summer, shaded by a sizeable rhododendron but with a good clear view of the garden.

"Did I ever tell you he chased a cat up a freeway?" asked Rossi as they worked. He threw a fond glance at the blanket-wrapped bundle nearby. "Lunatic."

"Chased Poppy up a bookcase that night he stayed with Griffin," replied Pip. "Put her right in her place."

Rossi chuckled. "Good. Maybe she'll stop ruining my shoes." Griffin hadn't passed on that little anecdote when Rossi had somewhat shamefacedly retrieved his dog from Griffin's care the morning after. He still owed they boy a favour, goodness only knew what form that would take.

"At least she only eats shoes," retorted Pip, leaning on the shovel for a moment to catch her breath, "unless there is something you ought to tell me, I think Mudgie stole and ate at least three pairs of my underwear."

"I thought he'd grown out of that," groaned Rossi. "Is that why you're missing the bottom half of that blue set I liked so much?"

Pip giggled and nodded. "At first, I thought I'd just left them at the wrong house, you know, going back and forth between home and here. Then the second pair went walkies and I wondered if you were keeping them." Pip resumed her efforts with the hole in his flowerbed. "I think I nearly caught him at it once."

"He always did have a fascination for ladies' underwear," admitted Rossi with a rueful grin. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Consider yourself lucky, you've never had _coitus interruptus a la Mudgie_. Once, and I still don't know how he got in the room, he stuck his nose up my ass, right at the, ah, opportune moment, then licked my balls. Put me right off my stride, I can tell you. I had trouble performing for about three months after that, even if there was a locked door between us."

Pip nearly collapsed laughing, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. She held out the shovel to swap places and sat down heavily clutching her sides. They continued to swap stories and jokes about his beloved dog until the last shovel of earth was replaced over him.

"Oh, I'm going to miss him," said Rossi brokenly as they tamped the earth down over Mudgie's grave.

"Me too."

There wasn't much else to say, so they stood there holding each other as the morning summer sun warmed the air around them.

Quiet reflection was intruded upon by the inevitable ringing of a cell phone. Rossi was grateful it wasn't his, because that meant it wasn't regarding work.

"Harker...Hi! Wait, how'd you get this number?" It wasn't said accusingly, more curious with a little exasperation thrown in for good measure.

Or perhaps it _was_ to do with work after all, in some way, judging by the look on Pip's face. She didn't turn away for privacy, or ask him to leave and Rossi clutched that tightly in his mind, that she trusted him enough for that. She hadn't always.

Pip rolled her eyes at the lengthy response from the other end. "You could have just said you broke federal law to look me up. I didn't need a detailed technical thesis on how to do it." Her sharp comment was taken in good humour by her mystery caller if the amused smirk was anything to go by.

"What do you…" Pip stopped, eyebrows raising. Rossi raised one of his own at her expression. It was a look that told of favours and strange people. He'd seen that look before.

"Yeah, I know of it." Pip glanced at her watch and threw him a faintly guilty, pleading look. "I can be there. Why is…" Pip pulled the cell away from her ear and frowned. "She hung up on me."

"What do you need me to do?" asked Rossi wearily.

"Can you give me a lift into DC? Anacostia Park." Pip bit her lip. "You remember my forensic scientist friend? That was her and she sounded…I don't know, a little freaked out. She wants to meet up at midday, but if I have to go back to my place and get the truck…"

"It's fine." Fetching her ride would mean a twenty-minute trip in the wrong direction and then she'd never make her meet for midday.

Which was how Rossi found himself leaning on his car hood next to Pip in Anacostia Park, holding three coffees and a large red and white plastic container full of a vile-smelling red liquid that seemed to be mostly sugar. Pip had assured him that it was supposed to smell like that, and that it would be gratefully received, but Rossi couldn't help being sceptical. Caffeine was a serious business, and wasn't supposed to come with lurid comic-strip type artwork.

Given the request to meet in person rather than discuss anything over the phone, Rossi shared Pip's wariness about the mysterious meeting. They were both watching their surroundings as if they were on stake-out.

They weren't waiting long before a black sedan pulled up and parked in front of them. A cheerful goth in huge platforms bounced out of the passenger seat clutching a laptop, and a tall silver-haired man emerged from the driver's side in a rather more dignified manner.

"Pip-Pip-Pip-Pip-Pip!" The goth smothered Pip in a hug, bending down a little to do so from the lofty heights of those impressive shoes. Rossi had to wonder how she walked in them without tripping over, but evidently, she had practice.

Pip grabbed one of the coffees and the plastic cup. "Special delivery," she said, holding out the garishly-decorated container to the other woman.

"Aw, Pip!" The goth grabbed it and took a huge slurp through the overly-large straw. "Thank you!" She looped her arm with Pip's started to drag her away. It seemed Pip's prediction regarding the sugar-laden drink had been accurate after all.

Pip dug in her heels long enough to gesture at both men in turn. "You two know each other?" she asked, by way of introduction.

Rossi nodded. By reputation, at least, he knew of her friend's companion. Reputation and rumour; of a man passionate about justice and willing to occasionally break the rules to get it.

The other man just grunted and rolled his eyes at her.

Pip fixed him with a stern stare. _"Igrayte khorosho, ili ya rasskazhu vsem, kak vy vytashchite lodki iz podvala."_

"No need for that," he muttered in reply, throwing Pip a somewhat annoyed look. It seemed to bounce straight back off again, deflected by Pip's wide grin. The man rolled his eyes again. "You two going to just stand there all day or get on with it?" A brief smile flickered into view for a moment, indicating he wasn't as irritated as he appeared.

Rossi held out one of the remaining coffees as Pip and her friend moved out of earshot. "Hope you like it strong, Gunny."

"We being formal, _Sargent Major?_ " the man asked a little sarcastically. He took the proffered cup and had a deep swallow. Rossi winced. His throat had to be lined with asbestos, because the coffee was still hot enough to strip skin. Rossi had barely managed a few sips of his own, before deciding to wait for it to cool a little before trying to drink it.

The man nodded appreciatively and tipped the cup in Rossi's direction in salute. "Ah, you weren't kiddin'."

Rossi smiled as the cup was upended again for another equally large swallow of the piping hot brew. Pip was two for two, strong coffee was the way to start any interaction with this guy. The man settled himself on the hood of his car, facing Rossi. He gave off the impression of someone always ready for action. Even casually perched on the car, he seemed to be able to lounge at full attention, like a soldier on watch. He caught Rossi's eye briefly, then turned his gaze to scanning the area, evidently trusting Rossi to do the same.

In an odd way, it was a bit like being in the field with Hotch. Both of them watching each other's blind spots, while still keeping a close eye on Pip and her friend, who were deep in conversation. Something that _wasn't_ happening between Rossi and the leader of the Navy's MCRT. Three for three, Pip had warned him that he wasn't one for small talk.

"So, are we, and by we, I mean _her_ , involved in whatever this is?" Rossi asked finally to break the silence, with a nod in Pip's direction.

"No. Just information. To start with." Pip had also said the man was short on words, and she hadn't been wrong there either. "Functional mute" was what she'd called him, with an almost fond shake of the head.

"To start with?" asked Rossi warily. "If you're going to drag her into something dangerous, I want to know."

Piercing eyes fixed on him and narrowed. "You're sleeping with her." It wasn't a question.

"What if I am?" huffed Rossi defensively. There was no point denying it, not with that stare aimed in his direction.

"I got rules about that sort of thing. Rule twelve. Never date a co-worker." A fleeting smile graced one corner of the man's mouth. "Bureau's got rules about it too."

"We're not in the field together…" Rossi started. "Well, I mean, not usually…after she…it's complicated," he finished lamely.

Those blue eyes narrowed further, and Rossi felt like he was being analysed in minute detail.

"Spooks," grunted the man. His tone was one of understanding, and Rossi could only assume he knew of some of her backstory. "I hate spooks."

"She's different," said Rossi confidently.

The eyes focussed on him again. "Yeah, I kinda got that," he said, indicating where Pip had her arm around her friend as they peered at the laptop together. "I trust Harker because _she_ trusts her," he added, indicating Pip's gothic friend.

"Are you sleeping with her?" Rossi had to ask after the way he'd been so thoroughly wrong-footed in the conversation, and he wanted to regain the upper hand.

To his frustration, the other man just laughed. "Aw, hell no. She's like a daughter to me." He tipped up the coffee once more, taking another deep swallow of the hot brew. "How'd you keep it all separate?" The casualness of the question was belied by the bright spark of curiosity in his eye.

They couldn't, not all the time, but so far, so good.

"We manage," Rossi replied. Not very well, considering all of Pip's team, Hotch, JJ and Strauss all knew. "At work, I keep quiet and she does the complicated talking, she's better at the flat-out deception than I am. With friends, at least."

"Habit she's used to, I should think."

Rossi cocked his head. "What makes you say that?"

"She's a spook. Never get straight answers about anything from a spook."

The rueful laugh that bubbled up was beyond Rossi's control to contain. "Don't I know it. Everything has more than one meaning."

"She's a woman, that's not gonna change." The soft chuckle they shared eased some of the tension between them.

"Yet she's stubborn to the point of infuriating and beyond, and insists on dealing with everything herself." Rossi hadn't meant to be quite so open, but after his conversation with JP the night before, it was on in his mind. And the man draped so leisurely-alert against his car reminded him of Pip. Once he was looking, he could see several similarities with Pip in how the man held himself: the vigilant stillness, the way he watched everything around him. Rossi wondered if he might be able to give him some insight into how Pip worked, some hint about the life she'd had before they met, the life she didn't talk about.

"She's a sniper, a sharp shooter." The man nodded, the embryonic smile flashing into view once more before disappearing. "That's what we _do_." There was a distinct note of pride in that remark.

Rossi had never thought about it quite like that. He'd been Infantry, his exposure to snipers had either been asking for cover fire or trying to avoid getting hit by one. Or catching them when they turned UnSub.

"Ask me what you want to ask me, Rossi."

Rossi frowned. Apparently he needed to work on his poker face. Still, while the offer was there… "How do I get through to her?"

"I been divorced three times, you think if I knew all the answers I'd still be on my own?"

"So have I," countered Rossi. "Hoping for some advice to make the next one last. When it's the right time to ask, that is."

The man grunted in grudging acceptance. "You ever see her military file?" Rossi shook his head and glanced over to find those uncanny blue eyes fixed on him again, this time with a curious sort of sympathy, as if this man knew of the loneliness Rossi had felt before he met Pip. "Makes for some interesting reading. Despite what it looks like she was for the last four years or so of her time, she's a Hog, through and through. A Hunter of Gunmen. Observant, patient and stubborn, and you have to be the same."

He paused, considering, then pulled his keys from a pocket. "Every marine who graduates from sniper training is given one of these," he said, holding out a small round on a chain suspended from his key ring. "Called a Hog's Tooth. There's a bullet out there with your name on, so if you carry it with you, you're safe. We're a superstitious bunch. Some people keep 'em, some people give 'em to loved ones to look after. What she did with hers will tell you a lot about her."

That seemed to be the end of the lesson, and they stood in silence for a while, drinking their coffee and leaning on their respective cars as their companions talked. It looked like they were getting close to finishing up, whatever it was they were discussing.

Rossi fished in his pocket for his copy of her keys, the vague memory that had been clamouring for his attention for a good ten minutes or more finally becoming too strident to ignore. Something he'd seen, a long time ago…he'd seen it, noted it and simply forgotten about it. There it was. Next to the crazy cow, the little bullet jingled merrily on its chain. The dancing reflected shine caught the other man's eye and he raised an eyebrow in Rossi's direction.

Rossi captured it between finger and thumb. "I never even…She gave hers to me," he breathed. " _Years_ ago, long before we were…"

The grin that broke across the silver-haired man's face made him look ten years younger. "When it's time to ask, ya got your answer already," he said cheerfully and started for the driver side door of his car as Pip and her friend started walking back in their direction. "Just be patient."

* * *

The house felt too quiet when they returned. Pip was quiet as well, and had been ever since the mysterious meeting in the park.

"You going to tell me what they wanted?" asked Rossi, just to break the silence.

"Information," replied Pip. "I think there's something rotten in ONI from what I picked up. I've no idea if what I knew was helpful or not."

She was still nibbling on her lower lip. "That's not all of it, is it? Come on, Pip. You can tell me anything." Rossi tried not to sound pleading, but his dog had died that morning and he wasn't in the mood for her secretive behaviour.

"We traded, intel for intel. They did their research on me, enough to know that I would want to know that Sergei Rostov is back in the country."

Another name he'd never heard before. "And who is Sergei Rostov?" The only Sergio that would come to mind was Emily's cat, a handsome blue with imperious eyes and a deep rumbling purr that sounded like a tractor engine turning over. Garcia had adopted the poor animal and was quite in love.

"He's the head of the Russian gang that shot me in Chicago."

* * *

A/n: _Igrayte khorosho, ili ya rasskazhu vsem, kak vy vytashchite lodki iz podvala –_ play nice, or I'll tell everyone how you get the boats out of the basement


	17. Forebodings

_A/n: a little later than planned, but better late than never. More Duffy, yay! Don't forget to tell me how much you love (or hate) this, I live for reviews._

 _Forebodings_

 _ **How often do you ignore a dream, dismiss it as fantasy and then see echoes of the dream around you the following day? What if a dream were the forewarning of what will become your reality; if you are being told within the world of a dream what may occur in the near or distant future, but your mind mangles the truth and information so much that you discard it as fiction? - Samantha Robertson**_

Rossi woke with a yell, cold sweat pouring off him and sticking him to the bedclothes. He couldn't remember all the details of the nightmare, only that Pip had been in trouble. He mopped his face and glanced at the clock. 3am. Would Pip mind if he called? Probably not, but would calling her really get rid of the sick fear he could still feel in his stomach? Doubtful.

With his go-bag on the seat next to him, Rossi drove to her apartment in just his pyjamas with a dressing gown thrown over the top, unwilling to delay his departure long enough to put some proper clothes on. It was a wet and wild night, a summer storm had descended in the early evening and was at its peak, lashing the car with rain and occasional twigs stripped from nearby trees. Parking up next to Pip's truck in the courtyard behind the house was a relief, not only because the presence of her truck meant she was home and safe.

Rossi wearily climbed the stairs. The adrenaline of his nightmare had long faded, leaving disquiet behind. Would she mind that he'd driven to her place in the middle of the night? Did it matter, as long as he got to see her, whole and unharmed?

Her apartment was in darkness when he eased open the door. He could still hear the storm outside, the old roof creaking a little under the onslaught of wind and rain, but inside was calm. Rossi could feel himself slowly relaxing, glad he'd made the hare-brained dash to her side after his bad dream.

He tip-toed his way carefully to the bedroom, not wishing to wake her. No point in disturbing her if he didn't have to, he'd just slip into bed next to her and let her presence reassure him until he could sleep.

At least, that was the plan. Pip's bed was empty.

Rossi stood in her darkened bedroom, panic starting to fill him once again. Where was she? What had happened to her? Had his dream been some kind of premonition? Did he even believe in that kind of thing? His spiralling thoughts were interrupted by a deep sigh that made him jump.

"You could at least warn me," chided Pip, a flash of lightening illuminating the room briefly and showing her standing in the corner watching him. "When you didn't announce yourself, I thought you were an intruder. You were about two seconds away from a knife in your throat."

Rossi was too relieved to apologise, crossing the room and enveloping her in a hug so tight it made her squeak.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" she asked, once he'd loosened his grip on her enough that she could breathe. She kept hold of him, running her hands down his back in a soothing motion.

"I…" It sounded really stupid, even to his own mind. _I had to check on you after having a nightmare?_ Talk about insecurities.

Pip gave him an assessing look. "You had a bad dream, didn't you?" She rolled her eyes, barely seen in the dimness, but Rossi knew her well enough to know she had. "Everything's fine," she assured him. "Come on, I'll make us a drink."

Pip led him back to the kitchen and Rossi squinted as she flicked on the overhead light, temporarily blinding him. Instead of coffee, Pip dug out a tub of hot chocolate and set the kettle going.

"You can call me whenever you like, you know that, don't you?" she asked as they waited for the kettle to boil. "Even if it's the middle of the night."

"Wasn't enough," muttered Rossi, feeling more idiotic by the moment. He barely remembered the drive to her place, so consumed with his lingering feeling of dread that just talking to her wouldn't have eased it. She was fine, of course she was. Dreams didn't show the future, or even necessarily the past. Dreams were the brain's way of processing data while the conscious mind was at rest and what took place in dreams had little to do with the real world. He knew that and standing in her kitchen in his pyjamas, he felt like a complete twit.

Pip cocked her head, like she was listening to him think. "What was it about?" she asked, turning away slightly to make their drinks.

Rossi shook his head. "I don't remember," he lied, unwilling to share what little he _could_ recall. "Thanks," he added when she handed him a mug of hot chocolate.

She gave him a look heavy with sympathy. "It sounds daft, but try not to think about it. You're here and you're awake and we're both fine." She led the way back to the bedroom and busied herself rearranging the pillows. Unlike him, Pip tended to sleep starfished in the middle of the bed when by herself. By then, Rossi kept to his own side of the bed while asleep alone, even when out on a case.

They settled in together, nursing the remains of their chocolate. "Will you be able to sleep or are you going to toss and turn the rest of the night and keep me awake?" asked Pip as she drained the last of her mug.

"I can go sleep on the sofa if you like," retorted Rossi.

"Don't you dare," she murmured, wrapping herself around him. "I rather like having my own personal human duvet."

"You only want me for my body."

She sniggered. "Fucking right I do."

"How tired are you?" he asked suggestively. Having Pip draped all over him was enough to arouse him at any time of day, even after his somewhat hare-brained dash to her apartment in the middle of the night. Not to mention that a bout of lovemaking would certainly put other thoughts out of his mind.

She started undoing the buttons on his pyjamas, which was enough of an answer.

* * *

Rossi awoke feeling far more rested than ought to be possible given his disturbed night's sleep. A cup of Pip's miraculous coffee did the remainder of the job of waking him up, although he knew he'd need an early night to make up for it. He remembered no more of his disturbing dream than he had when he awoke scared and sweaty in his own bed, but Pip's company for the rest of the night had banished the worst of the lingering dread. The storm had blown itself out overnight, a reassuring metaphor.

It was a slow day in the office, something Rossi couldn't decide if he was happy about or not. While he was glad that he'd be able to take Pip home with him that evening, a case would have been a welcome distraction from what was still going around in his mind…and filling up his desk.

Dreams didn't show the future. That much he was sure of. But they _could_ show connections that the conscious mind couldn't or _wouldn't_ make and he had to wonder if there was something he was missing, some scrap of understanding that his overworked brain had been trying to tell him. Unfortunately, all he could really remember was that Pip had been in trouble. That didn't narrow it down any. Pip seemed to lurch from one chaotic situation to another, only held aloft by the speed at which she hit each disaster; like a drunk failing to fall over because their momentum kept them stumbling along.

Speaking of which, Strauss was lurking outside in the bullpen once more. She turned up more often than she used to, apparently no longer satisfied with only occasionally sticking her nose in. Feeling like he ought to at least hear the context of whatever it was going to be Pip shouldn't have said, Rossi eased open his office door to listen.

"There's no need to repeat yourself, ma'am, I ignored you just fine the first time."

Rossi sighed. Obviously, it was going to be one of those days.

"What does he want?" snarled Pip, clearly not happy with whatever it was that Strauss was asking her to do.

"I'll let him explain." Strauss sounded rather smug and Pip rolled her eyes at Strauss' retreating back. While they weren't quite as antagonistic with each other as they used to be, it was only a matter of degrees.

The door to the BAU was thrown open with a flourish only moments after Strauss' departure. "Flip! How's my favourite little washout?" hollered a beefy-looking guy with short dark hair. Rossi gave up trying to work and made his way to the door to better watch the interaction.

"Fuck off, Wilson," snapped Pip. "Is your memory as flawed as your personality? I outscored you in everything, you odious little cretin."

Wilson just laughed and swaggered over to her. He pushed some of Griffin's work roughly out of the way in order to perch himself on the edge of the desk and draped an arm around Pip before she could shrug him off. "And yet here we are with me as your superior. Isn't life grand?"

Pip ducked out from underneath Wilson's arm. "Touch me again and you'll regret it," she snarled. "I was taught to think before I act, so when I smack the shit out of you, rest assured I've thought about it and am confident in my decision."

Wilson laughed easily. "We both know you don't mean it, Flip."

"Call me that again and I'm going to rearrange your face," growled Pip. "Get your ass off Griffin's desk!"

Wilson looked behind him and leapt up theatrically in surprise. "Sorry kid, I didn't know you worked here. I thought you were on day-release from high-school."

Rossi started down the walkway. He'd didn't like the way Wilson was talking to Pip and her team and was determined to at least make his visit shorter, if he couldn't get rid of him entirely.

He needn't have worried, because Duffy made himself known. He bumped into Wilson quite hard from behind, enough to make the objectionable man stumble forward.

"Hey! Watch where…you're…" Wilson turned around and trailed off as he looked up. And up. And up.

Duffy leered down at him. "Sorry, didn't see you." He smirked and turned to Pip. "You want me to… _tidy_ _up_ , boss?"

Pip smiled and laid a gentle hand on Duffy's arm. "No, I'll handle him from here, thanks Hank."

"You can handle me anytime you like, Flip."

Pip closed her eyes briefly in frustration. "Wilson, the last time you tried to seduce me you lost two teeth, remember? What makes you think I've changed my mind in the meantime?"

"Because I come bearing opportunities. How would you like to join my team and travel the world? Got to be better than be stuck in an office all day." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, or what he probably thought was suggestively at any rate. "Not to mention you get to spend time with me. All sort of opportunities for future…career prospects."

Pip smiled, a more genuine one than before. "I've travelled the world already, Wilson. And even if I hadn't, I wouldn't travel anywhere with you unless I was escorting your corpse."

Rossi failed to stifle the snort of laughter and Wilson's assessing eyes swung his way. "Wassup grandpa?" he asked derisively before turning his back again. "Kids and old people, Flip, there are other places, better places."

Pip said nothing for a moment and Wilson ploughed on. "Your silence shows you know I'm right, that you'd be better off with me."

"I doubt it." Pip's eyes shone with humour and her grin was so broad it threatened to take the top of her head off. "My silence didn't mean I agreed with you, it meant your stupidity temporarily rendered me speechless. That _old person_ is David Rossi."

Rossi had seen star struck fans before. He'd seen the lengths people would go to in order to meet him. He'd never seen someone cringe at meeting him, although there was always a first time for everything.

"The man whose work you idolised, yet apparently can't recognise, is my _boss_ ," continued Pip. "now, tell me again why I wouldn't want to work here?"

Wilson seemed to be shrinking, curling in on himself. The outlandish and rather offensive bravado was gone, replaced with something far worse. An unrepentant brown-noser.

"My apologies sir," he gushed in Rossi's direction. "Just a little banter between friends, you see?"

Rossi took his cue from Pip. "It didn't seem like my AST lead is your friend. Quite the opposite, in fact," he said casually, "and I'd like to know why you are here uninvited and making rude and insulting remarks to FBI personnel under my supervision."

Wilson mumbled something about budget cuts and reassigning people to save money.

"Actually, if one looks at the balance table over the Medium- and Long-Term Financial Plan published by the GAO, considering anticipated tax impacts and level of investment, I think our team will weather the current financial storm; provided we accrue our costs correctly at year-end and cooperate with other teams to balance deficits with excesses. I don't believe we require a salary-based reprieve to balance the ledger."

Wilson looked around bewildered, before his eyes fell on Griffin. "What did he just say?" he asked Pip plaintively.

Pip grinned. "He solves problems nobody understands in ways you can't even begin to comprehend," she snarked. "He's my financial expert." She gestured behind Wilson. "You've met my lawyer."

Wilson turned to see Duffy looming behind him, just a shade too close for comfort.

Phillips strode in with a heavy-looking gym bag over his shoulder. "Boss, I picked up the…" He picked up the mood in the bullpen immediately and cut off whatever else he'd been about to say. "Who's the idiot?" he asked, thumping the bag down on his desk, which creaked a little in protest.

"Watch who you're calling an idiot," growled Wilson, immediately bristling with dislike. He tried to move Phillips' bag off the desk but failed to budge it, even a little bit. "Whatcha got in there? Rocks?"

Phillips unzipped the bag. "Lead."

Boxes and boxes of ammunition filled the bag. Phillips glanced at Pip, trying to get an idea of how his boss wanted him to react. Pip nodded minutely. Phillips narrowed his eyes. "You want some?" he asked lowly, turning the question into a not-very-subtle threat.

"But you're an administrator," protested Wilson.

"Former SFPD," countered Phillips. "I still carry."

"So do I. Still a better shot than you," added Pip.

"I don't need to," rumbled Duffy.

Wilson threw up his hands. "You're welcome to them," he shot in Rossi's direction as he turned to leave. "You've gone down in my estimation, I wouldn't want such insubordination in my team."

Rossi chuckled. As if he cared what Wilson thought about _anything_. Guy was a waste of skin, not to mention an FBI badge. "You don't know what you're missing."

All five of them breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. "I suppose we should be glad the rest of the profilers aren't around," murmured Rossi. "That could have got messy."

"Who was he, boss?" asked Griffin tentatively. "He was a bit of a tosser."

Pip rolled her eyes. "More than a bit. He graduated distant second in my class, a long way behind me and it's irked him ever since. Although that could have been because I didn't want to sleep with him, I don't think he ever really understood my continual rejections of his advances. As far as I knew he was still in Europe getting shuffled from team to team. I can't imagine why no one likes him."

Griffin sniggered. "Such a charming personality, I guess they want everyone to experience it."

Rossi wondered about that while her team talked. Such behaviour wasn't born in a vacuum, and it certainly seemed like it wasn't the first time Wilson treated his colleagues in such an inappropriate manner. "I think we ought to go and see Strauss," he said, interrupting AST's bitching session. "but first, I think we need some background."

* * *

Strauss seemed surprised to see them when he and Pip arrived in her office less than twenty minutes later. A little research into Wilson and why he was back in the US had yielded a whole can of worms that Rossi planned to dump all over her desk. If it helped boot Wilson out of the Bureau too, so much the better.

"David. Agent Harker. To what do I owe this…pleasure?" The minute hesitation made it clear it was no pleasure at all to see them.

"I'd like to file a Sexual Harassment complaint against Agent Chuck Wilson," said Pip, with a rather over-done theatrical sigh. "Not only did he make ageist comments to my finance specialist, ah, and my boss, actually, come to think of it," she added with a quick glance Rossi's way, "but also he made continual unwelcome sexual advances, tried to intimate that by changing teams I could further my career by sleeping with him and laid his hands on me despite my objections."

Strauss looked unimpressed. "From someone who _is_ actually sleeping with their current supervisor, I find it hard to see credibility in your claims."

Luckily, they had anticipated that.

"I have here," started Rossi, fishing in the folder he held for the relevant paperwork, "three other accounts of Agent Wilson's interaction with Agent Harker this afternoon. I didn't bother writing one myself," he added with a sneer, "because I know you wouldn't accept it. In addition," he produced more paper, "five separate, substantiated claims of sexual assault from other women he's worked with overseas, all of which were buried because he's related to the Director, albeit only by marriage. He's been using the Director's name to get him out of trouble for years. I believe these complaints to be the reason for his return to Quantico, nobody wanted to deal with his behaviour and just moved him on instead."

"I hope you see the irony in this, David," said Strauss as she reluctantly took the proffered sheaf of complaints. "You of all people complaining about others' sexual habits in the workplace."

"I don't have any sexual habits in the workplace," objected Rossi. "What I do outside Bureau time has no bearing on this."

"May I ask why he was supposed to be here this afternoon, ma'am?" asked Pip. She glanced at Rossi with a look of nearly-genuine confusion. "I don't think we ever found out before he insulted us all and tried to touch me."

"He was supposed to extend a rather lucrative opportunity to any of your team who wished to take it," sighed Strauss. "With the current budgetary concerns…"

Rossi clenched his jaw. He was getting sick of hearing about "budgetary concerns". It seemed to be a catch-all phrase used for reorganising and disrupting the team with no real basis in fact.

"Griffin has already calculated that we don't need to lose staff in order to manage," interrupted Pip. "And AST can't maintain an appropriate level of service with less than four of us."

"They managed quite well while you swanned off to the Pentagon," retorted Strauss.

"You and I both know that wasn't where I went, and look at how well that turned out," growled Pip. "We've got cases going to court we're still trying to corral the paperwork for, outstanding and overdue invoices all over the place, poor Griffin is running himself ragged to get the ledger straight after trying to do too many things at once. They did well to keep things going while I wasn't here, but it isn't sustainable."

"Very well," grumbled Strauss in grudging acceptance. "I will look into these reports. If I find you have fabricated a single detail…"

"You won't," snapped Pip. "A simple telephone call will verify each and every single one of these complaints. I leave it up to you what you do with that information."

Pip turned on her heel and strode out of Strauss' office, leaving Rossi to follow along behind.

"You'd better be sure about this, David," called Strauss as he left. "It'll ruin his career."

Rossi grinned briefly. "Good," he said over his shoulder. "We don't need people like him, no matter who he's related to."

* * *

"Why did Phillips have a bag of ammo?" asked Rossi as they sauntered down to the parking lot together hours later. Aside from Wilson's unwelcome appearance, it had indeed been a quiet day, Rossi using the time to catch up on his own paperwork, much as AST were doing.

Pip grinned. "Part of the "cooperation with other teams" Griffin mentioned. Their surplus ammunition is now bolstering our stock, in exchange for some assistance with certain time-sensitive projects." Her grin fell, and she moved away from him in the direction of her truck. "Good evening, sir. See you in the morning."

Rossi opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, then closed it when Pip glared a warning at him. He obediently retreated towards his own car parked in the next row over, realising they had an audience.

Wilson rounded the corner of the pillar he'd been lurking behind. "You wait until my uncle hears about what you did," he snarled at Pip. "I got put on administrative leave while they talk to all those uptight bitches who tried to smear my name."

"One of those "uptight bitches" claims you raped her," said Pip calmly. Rossi wasn't so calm, because everything about Wilson's body language was threatening, and he knew exactly what the man was capable of. "A bit more serious than name-calling."

"She wanted it," growled Wilson, grabbing Pip's arm. "Just like you do."

" _Let go_ ," hissed Pip. "I don't want _anything_ to do with you."

Rossi gave up on his idea of letting Pip deal with the situation and strode across the aisle towards them. "I believe I heard the lady say more than once that she wasn't interested," he loudly pointed out. "I'd let her go if I were you. Sorry for intruding, Harker, but I thought you could use some assistance."

Wilson dripped Pip's arm like it was burning him.

"Boss!" called Duffy. "Miss Garcia said you left your…oh. You again." He stopped and sneered down at Wilson before giving Pip a rather eager look. " _Now_ can I tidy up?"

Pip laughed a little, rubbing her arm. "Feel free." She turned to Rossi. "See you in the morning, sir. Seems I left something in the office. Thank you for your offer of assistance." She walked away as if she didn't have a care in the world, but Rossi could see the relief writ clear in her demeanour.

All that remained, was to watch Duffy deal with Wilson.

"Are you going to add other charges to your name by resisting, or are you going to come quietly?" asked Duffy softly.

Wilson squared his shoulders and tried his hardest to shove Duffy out of his way. He landed on the floor groaning before he knew what hit him. In retrospect, Rossi decided that actually, Duffy made sure Wilson knew _exactly_ what had hit him.

"Forcing women against their will, what kind of man are you?" spat Duffy disgustedly. "No means "no", not "yes please". Agent Rossi, would you mind helping me? I can cite his violations of Bureau and penal code, but I can't remand him myself."

Rossi smiled. "I'd be glad to."

With Wilson safely bedded down in the custodial suite for the night, Rossi and Duffy retraced their steps back to the parking structure. In yet another example of the man's utter stupidity, Wilson's altercation with Duffy and Pip had been caught on camera. Faced with overwhelming evidence of Wilson's character, Strauss had finally taken the bull by the horns and done what should have been done a long time ago. Wilson wouldn't be an Agent for very much longer.

"Did Pip really leave something in the office?" Rossi asked.

Duffy flushed. "Not exactly."

Rossi glanced up at him and burst out laughing at his furtive expression. "You're very protective of her," he commented once he had the sniggers under control.

Duffy have him a sad, twisted sort of smile. "Boss stood up for me," he said. "First person to do that since my brother died. I'd do anything for her."

Rossi stopped walking in shock. Aside from the death of the man's brother, that Pip had made such an impact on someone who didn't seem to need any kind of protection was a bit of a surprise. An ugly thought surfaced – was Duffy interested in Pip romantically?

The Irishman took one look at his face and back-pedalled. "Not like that," he reassured him.

Rossi breathed out. That was a relief. If nothing else, if they ever came to blows, Duffy could squish him like a bug if he wanted to. He nearly missed the quiet murmur that followed.

"Would that it was, it'd make everything easier."

Unable to make sense of that for a moment, Rossi decided to pretend he hadn't heard. "Sorry about your brother," he offered instead.

Duffy shrugged. "It was a long time ago. He was Navy, like our father and his father before him and died serving overseas. There was a big gap between us, I was…an accident," he added uncomfortably. "I favour my mother, my father always made it clear that he didn't think I was his, especially when it became clear I couldn't follow the family tradition in the military. I think Euan knew, even before I did."

Where did Pip fit into that cryptic explanation? Rossi was still just as confused as when he'd started. "How did Pip…?" He left the question open in the hopes that Duffy would be prompted to a straight answer, although it was a small hope. The man was a _lawyer_ after all, a master of obfuscation and words that could be twisted to mean anything.

Duffy grinned, a genuine smile of pleasure. "My line-manager in Legal gave me a poor write-up two years in a row because I wasn't interested in sleeping with her. Boss put her _right_ in her place and got her disciplined for harassment. Reminded me of the way Euan always defended me to our father and I decided then that I'd stay in the BAU as long as she wanted me to."

The pieces finally fell together, and it made sense why Duffy had been so incensed by Wilson's behaviour, so similar to something he'd experienced himself. Rossi dug in his pocket, rummaging furiously. There was still one in there somewhere, wasn't there? Ah, there it was.

"Remember JP from that night out?" he asked, holding out JP's battered business card. He knew the man's number by heart and it was programmed into every device he owned, so it wasn't like he needed it anymore. "Talk to him. Don't _ever_ feel like you need to hide who you are, especially not with me or anyone else in the BAU."

* * *

Pip was waiting for him when Rossi returned to his car about forty minutes later. "Penny told Hank I'd left my cell phone in her office, but it was in my pocket the whole time." Leaning casually on his hood, Pip cocked her head. "Think there's something going on between those two?"

Unlikely, considering the revelation he'd just revealed, albeit circumspectly. That Pip hadn't picked up on it was interesting, but not exactly at the forefront of Rossi's mind. She was acting like nothing had happened. He gaped like a fish before he pulled himself together. " _That's_ what you're thinking about? That jackoff assaulted you!"

Pip uttered a brief bark of laughter. "He grabbed my arm. Hardly _assault_ ," she protested. Rossi pushed up the sleeve of her shirt to reassure himself that Wilson hadn't left bruises. "Dave, I'm fine! Honestly! What's with you today? You've been all protective and overbearing, all day."

"Can you blame me?" he muttered, pulling her into a hug once he satisfied himself that yes, she was actually fine. "You've had some dodgy company today." There was no way he'd admit that dreaming of her in trouble had been the cause of his unusually clingy behaviour.

Pip pulled away. "Come on, let's go home. I'll follow you back to yours in the truck and we can open a bottle of red and forget that asshole ever existed."

That sounded like rather a good idea and he loved it when Pip shared his bed, much as he liked her apartment. He also rather liked her calling his house "home". Rossi steered her back towards him and captured her lips with his. Pip looked rather dazed when he released her, eyes shining and lips swollen. Rossi felt a surge of possessive masculine pride at putting that expression on her face and couldn't resist leaning in for one last taste of her before they parted.


	18. Misdirected Vengeance Part 1

_Misdirected Vengeance Part 1_

 _ **Where does seeking justice end and seeking vengeance begin? - Paula Stokes**_

"Why do they always go down into the creepy basement by themselves?" complained Pip as on the screen, the cheerleader slowly crept down the creaky wooden stairs. "They're at a spooky cabin in the woods and there's a serial killer on the loose. There was practically a sign that said, "certain death" outside," she added dismissively. " _Obviously_ he's going to be in the basement. And actually, why does a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere even have a basement in the first place?"

"Mine has," noted Rossi with a smirk.

Pip rolled her eyes at him. "Of course it does, that's because you like being awkward when I'm trying to make a point. Why does _that_ cabin have a basement?" she asked, gesturing vaguely at the screen.

"It would be quite a short film otherwise."

Pip elbowed him in mock irritation. "Wouldn't you go and find a flashlight when you realised the lights didn't work? No, she's going to investigate the suspicious noise without a light." Pip shook her head. "She's going to die."

"You're assuming she fits his preferred victimology," countered Rossi with a laugh.

"Dave, she's blonde, pretty and the girlfriend of the lead male character. She's got about five minutes to live."

Pip was proved correct of course.

"That blood looks like ketchup," remarked Rossi. "And the spatter pattern is all wrong for an arterial spray."

Pip nodded against him. "Not to mention you wouldn't be able to see the arterial spray because there's no…fucking… _lights_! Honestly! And I would have taken a better weapon than a hairbrush, stupid girl never stood a chance."

"She was on holiday, it's not like college kids usually pack weapons for Spring Break," disputed Rossi. "It would take up space that could be used for beer. What would you have taken?"

"Apart from the Twins? You."

Rossi huffed with laughter. "Really?"

Pip twisted a little to look up at him. She'd been snuggled into his side all evening, both of them feeling the absence of the quiet canine presence that was usually curled up with them. And possibly, the spectre of Wilson hadn't been entirely exorcised either. "Yeah, really. I know you have my back, no matter what."

Her complete confidence in that caused a rush of something cold, then hot to run through him. It travelled from the top of his head down to his feet and back up again. Rossi took a deep breath, suddenly needing to get his emotions under control. He'd just had confirmation of a far deeper level of her trust than he'd ever had before, and trust was something she didn't give out easily.

"Always," he whispered against her skin, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. That kiss lead to another, and another, and another, each more passionate than the last. A particularly agonised scream distracted them, cooling the heat building.

Rossi looked up in time to see the geeky member of the group become the next gory victim. "Why do they always kill the nerds? You'd think they'd be the smart ones, the type that would escape."

"Smart people wouldn't have stopped there in the first place, or thrown out the spare tyre so they could fit another case of beer in the trunk," disputed Pip. "I can't decide if they're all going to get butchered, or if one's going to survive in order to spawn a gratuitous sequel."

"There's always a sequel," said Rossi, before groaning as on screen, another teenager died a bloody death. "Have none of these kids seen a scary movie? They're as bad as all those swimmers who don't notice the shark playing a cello! Four films of that and people never learned," he joked. "You don't follow the sounds, you run. Idiot. Perhaps it's a good job he won't live to reproduce."

"Or vote," added Pip with a snigger.

Rossi grinned. He couldn't disagree with that. "Who's your money on to survive?" he asked.

"The awkward virgin, the one with the glasses," said Pip after some consideration. "She strikes me as the sort of girl who'll survive in order to grow out of her ugly duckling phase and be the stunning one in the inevitable sequel."

"I'm backing the football jock," asserted Rossi. "Strong strapping lad like that should be able to overcome the so-called serial killer, a man reported to be all of five foot five."

"Size isn't everything," demurred Pip.

"That's not what you said last night," he murmured in her ear, following it up with a lingering kiss to her neck, picking up where he'd left off previously.

"I said you had no issues in that department, not quite the same thing," she disagreed with a smile. "He's going to get dead, he's the lead guitarist in the band."

Rossi pulled back a little. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Pip twisted so she could look him in the eye. "Don't tell me you were lead guitar in your high school band or something."

"Ah…" He still played, if video games counted.

Pip rolled her eyes. "I knew it. Explains everything," she said with a laugh. "There's a knock at the door, how can you tell it's the lead guitarist?"

Rossi shook his head, waiting for the punchline.

"Wrong key, no idea when to come in." Pip grinned at him.

"Let me guess, you were the drummer?" retorted Rossi. "What do drummers get on an IQ test?"

Pip laughed. "Drool!" she cried happily, bursting into giggles.

Giggles that were infectious, because seeing her so happy made him happy too. The rest of the film continued, with sporadic sarcastic commentary from both of them on the unlikelihood of some of the major plot points and the shoddy police work by the local law enforcement. Whenever he could get away with it, Rossi would kiss her breathless. They went to bed still tossing comments about the film back and forth, laughing together right up until they turned the lights off. Then the kissing and caressing started all over again, as Rossi lost himself in her once more.

Initially, the only word he could come up with to describe how that night felt was "contentment", but that couldn't fully encompass it. "Bliss" was closer, and the smile remained even as he fell asleep, Pip securely tucked into his arms.

In many ways Rossi reflected later, he should have known that feeling of perfection was the calm before the storm; the first of many about to hit.

* * *

Pip flew into his office early the following morning and grabbed the tv remote from his desk, flipping through the channels until she found a 24-hour news station. "Agent Cho from Chicago is on line 4 for you," she said tensely, focus completely on the tv. Her body was rigid, if she'd been holding the remote any tighter it would have cracked in her hand.

"Pip, what…?" Rossi stopped as the reason for her unease became clear. Images of people running and screaming filled the tv screen. The footage was a little unfocused, as if it had come from CCTV, but the blurred-out shapes of what were obviously dead bodies told their own story. The ticker-tape at the bottom of the screen confirmed his fears. Chicago had a sniper.

Rossi picked up the phone and punched the insistently flashing red light. "Rossi."

"Agent Rossi, Danny Cho, Chicago. Have you seen the news?"

"I'm watching it right now." Although technically, Rossi was watching Pip. "Looks like you've got an indiscriminate long-distance gunman taking pot-shots at a crowd." Rossi had his own problems, Pip was wound up like a spring.

"If only that's all we have," sighed Cho. "What we've been able to keep out of the media so far is that we think this is related to a shooting two days ago, the news reported it as a gang hit, but now I'm not so sure."

Cho sounded genuinely worried, and Rossi frowned. "Why? That's a big shift in methodology: a targeted gang-style killing to multiple casualties from a distance. It would be unusual. What's the connection?"

"We've lost track of an undercover with that gang. He should have checked in as soon as he could after the bullets flew, yet no one's heard from him. His cover house is empty, and his emergency cell is disconnected. We have to assume he's dead. This morning…" Cho heaved a deep sigh, a heart-felt exhalation of grief. "This morning we lost an off-duty agent, a good friend of mine. I think someone is targeting the FBI presence in the city, we really need your help."

That was a truly horrifying thought. "Send us everything you've got so far, we'll start work while we're on the way. We'll be there in…" Rossi glanced up at Pip, who'd turned to meet his gaze. "How long?" he mouthed to her.

Pip moved to the threshold of his doorway and made one of the myriad of hand gestures that AST commonly used to operate. Rossi had a good handle on the basics, the one for the closing paperwork he'd seen many times, and he'd worked out several others. He didn't know that one, although he could guess it was some sort of query. He craned his neck to see Phillips, Griffin and Duffy through the window, each responding with a unique, unknown gesture of their own.

Pip turned back to him, brow furrowed as she added something up in her head, then held up three fingers.

"Three hours," said Rossi.

"Thank you," breathed Cho. "I'll have all the relevant files made available to you immediately."

"See you soon."

"Agent Rossi, one more thing," interjected Cho, just as Rossi was about to hang up.

"Go on," replied Rossi, now feeling a little impatient.

"Bring her with you."

Cho didn't qualify that, but Rossi was pretty sure he knew who Cho meant. "Who?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Harker." The reason for Pip's discomfort was growing a little clearer. There was some bad history of some sort between the two of them, the dislike in Cho's voice was all to evident. "This involves her too."

Cho was gone before Rossi could quiz him further on that, and Rossi glared at the phone for a moment before replacing the receiver. He looked up to find Pip watching him intently.

"He wants me there, doesn't he?" Her loathing of both the idea and of Cho was as clear as Cho's dislike of her had been. "Am I helping, or does he want you to drag me back there in cuffs?" she sneered.

"Cuffs?" exclaimed Rossi. "No, he…why would he want you in cuffs? I'd never let that happen."

"Last time we met, he was the lead IA investigator into the failed operation in Chicago. He got a bit…obsessed. He got side-lined when his boss realised he'd been involved with one of my team, Becky Hollis. Ruined his career prospects, he had his heart set on a posting to headquarters in DC."

Rossi nodded. He remembered the name Hollis from the file Pip had thrown at him all those years ago. "What's that got to do with you?"

Pip snorted. "Fucking good question. I never trusted him. I think people like him are proof that there's a hitherto undocumented sub-genus of pond slime, specifically bred for Internal Affairs to recruit from," she said with a shrug. "More dick in his personality than his pants if you ask me, but Becky obviously saw something in him that I never could. There was a leak, and even though we all knew there was a dirty cop in the CPD gang unit that could have been telling tales, Cho was convinced it was me. It didn't do him any good. After he got kicked off the investigation, he got shunted sideways and then booted from IA entirely, ended up on an over-staffed task force trying to curb illegal gun sales. I think he's running it now."

"That's the same thing you were doing. Are you telling me that operation is still ongoing?" asked Rossi incredulously. "I thought it all got shut down when…"

"When my team got wiped out," finished Pip with a grim smile. "No, it wasn't. The eight of us were only part of the taskforce and once we went down, it got overrun with personnel in an attempt to fix it. Turned it into this great cumbersome brute that probably does more harm than good because it's so big and therefore easy to avoid."

Pip reached under her shirt and unfastened her knives. "Lock these in your drawer," she said, dropping the holstered blades on his desk. "If I take them with me, I'm liable to use them."

Rossi could say nothing to that and simply nodded, tucking the Twins in a drawer and locking it.

The files that came through from Chicago contained some more unsettling news. Cho's fallen friend had actually been his partner for the past three years. A man who had worked on the taskforce with Pip, although he'd been a junior, fledging Agent at the time, lumbered with the worst of the chores and paperwork. The missing undercover agent had been the sole remaining source of information from inside Rostov's circle in the US. Somehow, it seemed like Cho was right, that it did involve Pip. Somehow, it was about the Russian gang that had shot her and killed her friends. She was quiet during the briefing, having handed out the complete case file of her work during that time. She spoke only when asked a question and hid herself away at the back of the jet as they flew to Chicago.

Rossi let her have her space, something she clearly wanted. He didn't like seeing her withdrawing but was helpless to do anything about it. It wasn't just him. Every one of Pip's team had given her a hug before she left, each of them trying to halt the submersion of self that was clearly happening.

* * *

Rossi didn't trust Cho either, when they met. There was something furtive about him that just put Rossi on edge, something he couldn't pin down or put into words. The man made his trigger finger itch and caused a continual sense of unease, although part of that was the way he treated Pip. She was excluded from the initial briefing, barred from examining the evidence and every glance or comment Cho threw in her direction was heavily coloured with contempt and suspicion. Rossi found himself grateful that the Twins were locked safely in his desk back in Quantico, because otherwise he'd have been tempted to _let_ her use them.

That night in the hotel, Rossi snuck down two floors to knock on Pip's door. He'd been a bit disappointed but unsurprised that Pip had not taken the room connecting to his, but instead one on a different floor. The sound of his knuckles against woodwork seemed to echo up and down the drab corridor, announcing to the world that it was probably a bad idea, that he was going to get them caught.

Pip opened the door. "What?" she said testily. Her hair stuck up on one side, lather dripping onto her bare shoulders. "I was in the fucking shower."

"Want some company?" asked Rossi, with a quick glance down to where a significant amount of soapy leg was peeking through the gap in the too-small towel she'd hastily wrapped around herself. "Dessert first, then room service?" he offered with a wink.

"Probably not a…" Pip broke off as the elevator chimed and Morgan stepped out. "…good idea." She slammed the door in his face.

Morgan gave him a long considering look. Rossi shrugged. "Thought she might want a late dinner. Want to grab a bite?" he asked casually.

"I ate hours ago, man, but I could go again," replied Morgan with a grin. "They've got a fantastic all-you-can-eat buffet in the restaurant downstairs."

Rossi chuckled. He dreaded to think what Morgan's weekly grocery bill was. That much muscle and power took some feeding. "In that case, it's my treat."

Morgan groaned good-naturedly. "If I'd known that, I would have suggested the steak place down the block. Skinflint."

"Hey! I gotta look after the fortune somehow and I can't afford to feed you otherwise," retorted Rossi with a teasing smile. "You want to see if JJ wants to join us?"

Morgan gave him another of those long, considering looks. "JJ said earlier she was going to sit with Harker, you know, like, _girl talk_. Can't be easy coming back here, especially if it might all be related."

Rossi realised he'd dropped himself right in it. He cursed himself for his big mouth and impulsive behaviour, he'd known knocking on her door late at night was a risk. _Of course_ JJ would go to Pip, he even remembered her saying so. They'd all read through the file Pip had presented them with that morning, although he'd seen most of it years ago. Rossi wondered if perhaps JJ too had already known at least part of its contents. The two of them were closer than they had been before Pip's year away, everyone could see that; and it was confirmation, to Rossi's mind, that JJ's position at the Pentagon had let her stay in communication with Pip while she was overseas. With only the one person to talk to, it was no wonder they'd formed a bond. The night in Alabama flickered into memory. JJ had been the one Pip turned to that night as well, and Morgan knew it.

"Oh," Rossi managed, after a hesitation just a shade too long for it to sound as casual as he'd hoped. "Ok."

Morgan gave him a curious side-eye glance then shook his head. "You know, the best way to get your money's worth at these buffets is to avoid things like rice or potatoes," he commented as they made their way to the elevator. "It just fills you up. Best thing to do is load up on the expensive stuff, like meat or seafood. You can get veg and carbs cheap without paying set menu prices for them."

"You've given this some thought," teased Rossi with a laugh as the doors closed behind them and the car started making its way downwards.

Morgan folded his arms across his chest and flexed his biceps. Rossi could hear the seams on his shirt creak a little in protest. "This body is a lean, mean criminal-fighting machine," he said almost seriously, before one side of his mouth cocked up in a smirk. "What you gonna do? Bounce them out of the way with your gut?"

"I can still rescind the offer of dinner, y'know," threatened Rossi. "It's not like I'm going to pay to have you insult me all night." No, that honour was reserved for Pip alone.

Morgan held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sure the ladies love it."

Rossi grinned cockily as the doors slid open with a gloriously scented waft of culinary promise. "Yes, they do." Or rather, one in particular.

Morgan laughed, and the conversation turned to baseball.

* * *

"You're on speaker, Garcia," said JJ, "please tell me you've got something."

Two days they'd been at it, with little progress. The only thing they'd found, at third time of looking, was a small mark near where their UnSub had set up to take his shots at the crowd. A design, a little symbol scratched into the wall, almost hidden under the inevitable layer of new graffiti. It might not even be anything to do with him, but it was the only lead they had.

"Oh, I've got something alright," replied Garcia stridently. "A headache! I've been deep diving on the dark web and believe me, there's not enough brain bleach in the whole…the whole _universe_ to unsee things I've seen in the last twenty-four hours." Garcia made a noise that perfectly combined disgust and distress, even over speakerphone. "I mean, how do these people sleep at night, advertising everything from drugs to murder to child sex slaves on the internet, like some sick form of eBay? It's disgusting, I feel like my perfectly crafted innocence has been violated, and I keep finding more of it, there's _so_ much more, how…"

"Penelope, focus," chided Rossi gently. He knew as well as the rest of them that Garcia only rambled excessively when she was upset. "Was it some kind of calling card JJ found? Have you got a name?"

He hoped so, because they had very little else to go on and still only had Cho's insistence that the two shootings were related. Everything about the second shooting screamed of a contract killer, despite the multiple fatalities, and there had been no sign of the mysterious symbol anywhere at the first crime scene. The profile was still incomplete, because they still had no idea about motive, other than the tenuous possibility that Rostov and his Russian ties were involved. Patrick Henderson, the FBI agent killed, was a stand-up guy. Paid his taxes on time, was kind to old ladies and lost puppies, never missed a birthday or an anniversary. It was almost surreal, finding a man so well-liked, everyone had friction with _someone_ , except it seemed, Pat Henderson. They hadn't come up with a single reason why someone would take a hit out on him.

They were all starting to wonder if Cho wasn't a little target-blind, so convinced of his theory that he was blinkered to all other possibilities. Rossi had already asked Garcia for detailed backgrounds on the other three people shot dead, in the hope that a clearer motive for killing one of _them_ would give them a new direction.

"Yes, and then again, no," replied Garcia. "I don't have a name, but there was something hidden in the mark you found. Now, most people wouldn't have noticed, but by enhancing and extrapolating the image with a nifty little algorithm I designed myself, I could identify it."

"Any hits?" asked Cho, leaning forward with interest.

"You can hit me up _any_ time with that sexy voice, Agent Cho," purred Garcia. She laughed a little when he spluttered with embarrassment. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"Any hits, Garcia," pressed Rossi wearily, well used to Garcia's eccentric telephone manner.

"It pointed me towards a particular icky place on the internet where these creeps and freaks like to hang out," she said proudly. "I think I found where your hitman hangs up his hat, digitally speaking."

"That's good work, Garcia," said Rossi, with a trace of relief. Finally, they had something concrete.

"How do we get him out of cyber space and into the real world where we can our hands on him?" mused Morgan. "He's not going to just give us his address."

"Garcia, can you track any communication the UnSub has had in, say, the past month?" asked JJ. "Perhaps if we knew who'd contracted him, we'd be a step closer."

"No, I'm sorry, I can't," said Garcia. "I'm amazing but even my skills have limits. It's impossible, all communications seem to be done by instant message, and it isn't saved or logged anywhere. There's no records for me to search."

"Ask for another hit," murmured Pip from the doorway.

Cho instantly ended the call to Garcia and spun around to glare at her. "You want to endanger _more_ lives?" he scoffed. "Stupidest idea I've heard all morning." Cho stalked out of the room, past a dejected-looking Pip. "You shouldn't be listening to conversations that don't concern you. Another of your _many_ distasteful habits," he added venomously as he left.

She followed him with her eyes, then glanced briefly at Rossi. She shrugged and slunk out of the office, parking herself back at the empty desk Cho had assigned her and insisted she not move from.

"Anyone got any other ideas?" asked Rossi. He looked around at JJ and Morgan. Neither of them looked particularly happy with the thought of blindly sending out a request for a contract killing, but the shrugs he got in response were eloquent enough. At that point, anything was worth a try. Rossi redialled Garcia.

"Garcia…"

"Did you just hang up on me?" asked Garcia stridently. "Really? Everything I do for you, and you _hang up on me_?"

"Garcia…" Rossi tried to get a word in edgeways but was overridden once more.

"No! I'm going to say this because you all forget…"

"Babygirl, it was Cho that hung up on you," interrupted Morgan.

There was a moment of silence. "Oh," she said, with a touch of embarrassment. "Well, in that case it's different. You just tell him not to do that again. I was sat here talking to myself, for like, a whole two minutes before I realised you weren't there anymore."

"PG, we need you to do something for us," said JJ, with a quick glance at Rossi, who nodded. "Use what you've got to ask for another hit, see if the UnSub contacts you back."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" asked Garcia uncertainly. "I mean, he might just…you know, do it."

"Make it sound like it's the same person who asked last time but don't identify a target," suggested Rossi. "If we can get a dialogue going, then maybe we can ask for a meet. It's risky, but it's about the only idea we've got."

"Tell me I'm not going to get in trouble for putting out a hit on someone," said Garcia worriedly. "If this doesn't work, I don't want to be the one left holding the can."

"We wouldn't let that happen, Mama," Morgan reassured her. "Just see what you can do."

With Garcia placated and working on a line of communication for them, Rossi went in search of Pip. He eventually found her in the canteen, staring moodily into a cup of what passed for coffee in the Chicago office. It wasn't great, but not that bad compared to some – it covered all the basics at least: it was hot, wet and had caffeine in it, more than could be said for some other examples Rossi had forced down during his time with the Bureau.

Rossi sat down next to her and nudged her knee with his. "You ok?"

Pip just shrugged and started drawing pictures in the spilled sugar on the table with a fingernail. One of them looked a little like a gravestone.

"Can I get you anything, do anything?" he asked, when it was clear she wasn't going to speak. Pip looked like she needed a hug and about two weeks sleep, neither of which he could immediately provide.

Pip shook her head, still making sugar-shapes. That one on the left was definitely a gravestone. Rossi wondered whose it was, Ian's or Cho's. Or perhaps her own.

"We're using your idea to contact the UnSub," he said, hoping for a reply.

"Cho won't be happy," she muttered.

"I couldn't give two shits what he thinks," said Rossi. "I don't like him, and I don't like him talking to you the way he does."

Pip just shrugged again, brushing a hand over her sticky artwork to erase it and start all over again. Once more, the gravestone was the first shape to emerge from the newly-blank canvas.

Any further conversation, although conversations usually involved both parties actively taking part, was halted by Morgan's appearance. His eyes flickered back and forth between them for a moment, noting how close together they were sitting. "Garcia needs us."

Rossi had to leave Pip in the canteen and follow Morgan back to the office they'd commandeered.

"You've got me, Rossi and Morgan," said JJ for Garcia's benefit.

"I sent out a request like you asked."

"And? Did you get anything?" asked Rossi.

"Yessir," replied Garcia. "Just one reply, and I'm positive it's your guy, because he said, "same price as last time." I asked for a meet, he agreed but he wouldn't give me a location, obviously we're supposed to know where already. He was using a tor browser, bounced through an encrypted cellular signal so I couldn't trace his IP to give us an address…"

"But?" asked Morgan. "I know you got more than that, beautiful."

"Buut," Garcia drawled, "I have mad skills and narrowed his whereabouts to down to a ten-block radius near the docks."

"That's good enough, Babygirl, that's more than we had an hour ago," Morgan reassured her. "We'll find him and it's down to your mad skills that we know where to look."

"Aww, aren't you the sweetest?" cooed Garcia. "You'll always be my favourite. Details on their way, such as they are. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be doing a cute cat video marathon to make me feel better. Catch you all on the flip side!" she chirped, and was gone.

* * *

As Pip had predicted, Cho wasn't happy that it was Pip's idea that had given them a lead. They split up, Cho with one of his men, and Morgan with Rossi to search the area of the docks Garcia had indicated. There was a lot of ground to cover. Still thinking that perhaps it hadn't been about Henderson at all, Rossi told JJ to stay behind and work with Pip on what they were calling among themselves "the _other_ angle".

Despite Cho's insistence that it was a waste of time, that would take an unfeasibly large amount of manpower to canvass such a highly built up and densely populated area; it had only taken a few passes of the neighbourhood for Morgan to identify a dilapidated building that it was perfect for what their target would want. Privacy, excellent sightlines and above all, no neighbours. Unlike all others in the area, every single one of the buildings around it was empty and boarded up. They parked outside and walked around, trying to look as if they belonged there.

Rossi paused at a side doorway, tapping Morgan on the shoulder to point out a worn symbol carved into a brick. The brick was old, like the rest of the building, and had crumbled in half like so many of its companions. Even so, on the piece that remained, they could see a what once could have been part of the same design Garcia had used to find and contact the hitman they were seeking. They were in the right place. Morgan nodded and followed him into the gloom.

Long corridors that snaked around industrial plumbing greeted them, with no clear line of sight. Water pooled on the floor, some of it green and slippery with age. Whatever this building had once been, it was empty, disused, possibly for generations. There was an uncomfortable humming in the air, a sound Rossi had only previously heard described by disaster survivors on tv. It was the sound of rotten steel under stress, of decomposing strength that would eventually give out and take everything else with it. One wrong move and they'd have to mail the pair of them back to Quantico in a jar.

They headed for the centre of the building, where logic said there'd be a large open space, where whichever industry this building had been used for once took place. The machinery would be long gone, the scrap merchants would have had it, if the place hadn't been stripped bare when the last business closed. The perfect place to meet their shooter. It would also be safest place to be, away from anything they could knock into or trip over to add to the creaking strain of the dying structure.

Through the doorway into said open space, Morgan halted suddenly, glancing down worriedly at the .45 aimed at his chest.

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked the man holding it. He had a narrow face and pointy nose, somewhat hidden by a scruffy moustache that only highlighted his weak chin. He reminded Rossi of a rat. Fitting perhaps, considering. To add to that impression, he also looked a little twitchy, and twitchy men with guns could do _anything_.

Rossi took a huge gamble, relying on gut instinct and little else. "Relax," he said, more calmly than he felt. "Danny Cho sent us."

The gun was lowered, but not holstered. Half a win. "Why? Cho usually comes himself," the man asked suspiciously, eyes darting between them. The .45 started to come back up again.

"Change of plans," snarled Morgan and leapt at him. The two men crashed to the floor, rolling over and over as each tried to get the upper hand. Rossi took the opportunity to dart through the doorway, just as Morgan took an elbow to the jaw and rolled away, dazed. The rat-faced man stood, gasping for breath and started to raise the gun he'd managed to keep hold of.

He stopped when Rossi dug his Springfield into the back of his neck. "FBI, asshole," Rossi breathed in the man's ear. "The honest kind. Drop it, or I'll blow your head off."

The .45 landed on the floor with a clatter and Morgan scooped it up and tucked it in the back of his pants. "Turn around," he panted, already reaching for his cuffs.

The man obeyed and dropped dead on the floor in front of them with a hole between his eyes. The echo of the shot arrived a split-second later. Rossi and Morgan both ducked, expecting another shot, but there was none. Both of them looked up just in time to spot a shadow duck out of sight through one of the many holes in the roof.

It took them a while to get up to the roof, the internal stairs were rotten to the core and just snapped damply under their weight. The external fire escape wasn't much better, squealing alarmingly as they climbed, but it held. By the time they tentatively stepped out onto the sagging roof, whoever had killed their suspect was long gone. There was a couple of scuff marks to show where they'd climbed up, but no other trace. Morgan called in the body as Rossi futilely scanned the rooftops around them for any sign of movement. Nothing.

* * *

Rossi glared down at their sniper. He had already searched him for ID and found none, unsurprising given his profession. They had no idea who he was, and he had been the only person who could have told them how Cho was involved in what was going on. Rossi had a feeling Cho was in it up to his grubby little neck. There was just _something_ about him…

"How did you know?" asked Morgan, joining him next to the body. "How did you know Cho was part of it?"

"I didn't," admitted Rossi. "It was just a feeling, and I wish I'd been wrong."

"Me too," agreed Morgan. "If Cho's turned, then who can we trust?"

"Only our own people until we find out more," replied Rossi with a sinking heart. "We don't know how deep this goes." There wasn't enough of them to get to the bottom of what was going on as quickly as he'd like. He needed to get Pip out of Chicago, he could see what spending time in the city was doing to her. Everywhere she looked, she was being assaulted with sights and sounds that only sharpened her grief, and she was retreating. Not just from him, but from everything. Cho's constant presence wasn't helping either: the tension and their past history, something Rossi still didn't fully understand, was just eating away at her. Hour by hour, she was losing that spark that made her so unique. So uniquely _Pip_.

They looked up as the coroner arrived, signalling the end of their impromptu vigil over the body. Both men moved in the direction of the Bureau SUV, still deep in thought. Rossi called JJ from the car, wanting the privacy of the vehicle before sharing any of their fears.

"JJ take me off speaker," ordered Rossi when she picked up.

There was a click and a long pause punctuated by some rustling, then JJ's voice. "I've had to take this outside, and I got some really funny looks."

"You've got both me and Morgan. Cho's involved," said Rossi, "so we can't be sure how many of his team are as well. Where is he?"

"Cho? Are you sure?"

"The sniper admitted it," added Morgan.

"You've got him in custody?" asked JJ. "I thought he was dead. You guys called in the body."

"He _is_ dead," replied Rossi shortly. "Someone shot him before we could even get cuffs on him, but he said Cho usually came himself. I'm sending Garcia a photo of him in the hope she can get us an ID. Where's Cho?" he asked impatiently. Cho needed to be locked up, and far away from Pip.

"Nobody knows," said JJ slowly.

Rossi could sense her reluctance. "JJ, what's wrong?"

"He came back here briefly, after he left to do the grid search with you. He said he'd forgotten something. I didn't see him leave again, but now he's not answering his cell and no one can reach him on comms." She hesitated and added, "nobody can contact the agent he took with him either."

"Either he's in it with Cho and helped him by shooting our suspect to tidy up loose ends, or he's already dead," said Morgan flatly. "Cho doesn't have the marksmanship skills to take the shot I saw, so he's working with _someone_. Ask Harker if she knew the guy, she might be able to tell us if we're looking for a body or another shooter. Something _has_ to lead us to where Cho would have gone."

There was a long pause. "I haven't seen her since she went out for coffee…l thought she was upset about being back here, I mean the coffee here is bad, but it's not _that_ bad. I figured she just wanted some fresh air...I didn't think anything of it, but it's been hours…"

No, no, no. It wasn't happening. Rossi could hear the words before JJ said them, because he could see the shape of what had happened reflected in the horror on Morgan's face.

"Last time I saw her, was just before Cho came back. I think he must have taken her with him," finished JJ, confirming their fears.

The world stopped turning, just for a beat. When Rossi came back to himself, Morgan was looking at him strangely and his hand hurt, apparently because he'd thumped the steering wheel.

"She has no idea what he's capable of," growled Rossi. "Damn! Search for signs of a struggle, track their phones, get both their pictures out, right now. I want him found! We're on our way back."


	19. Misdirected Vengeance Part 2

_Misdirected Vengeance Part 2_

 _ **Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged - Samuel Johnson**_

It took Garcia all of half an hour to find a name for their dead sniper. The picture Rossi had taken hadn't helped because he'd undergone extensive surgery to alter his features, not that any of them could really fathom why he'd _chosen_ to look like a rodent. He lived under a series of assumed names, but his prints came back in AFIS. Finlay Simmonds had been in the military and turned hitman-for-hire when his hitch expired. The addresses he had listed all came back as fake, they had to be unless Simmonds had taken up residence at a series of burger joints across the city. His connection with Cho was still unclear. Quite how Cho would have stumbled upon him defied explanation because there was no peculiar activity on his cell, and he certainly hadn't been using his Bureau workstation to trawl the recesses of the internet for a murderer-for-hire.

Garcia had also traced both Pip and Cho's cell phones. Rossi glared at them on the table in front of him. Both had been in a trash can less than a block from the FBI building, and neither would help the team locate them. Another dead end.

JJ and Morgan slipped out to serve a search warrant of Cho's apartment shortly after the phones had been found. The warrant itself was a work of art, because Duffy had managed to get it organised without any of Cho's team being aware of it. Some strings pulled here, an active field agent in peril there, some notes about potential corruption within the Chicago field office and Duffy had obtained permission for one of the most secretive searches conceivable. The man was a legal mastermind, that gentle giant exterior housing a vast intellect that he kept shrouded under an unassuming guise. An intellect he brought to bear because it was his boss in danger.

In order to keep the secrecy alive, they couldn't all go to Cho's apartment, and one look at JJ's forbidding expression had told Rossi that he was in no state to be in the field. He couldn't just sit around waiting though, so Rossi took a car and just drove, ostensibly to buy coffee, but in reality, he needed some privacy to pull himself together. He was no use to Pip all the time he was a panicky mess, and until they knew for sure that Cho's team weren't involved, they couldn't afford to be an agent down.

Everything they _had_ found on Cho, from his behaviour to his obsession with Pip and the case against Rostov, indicated he'd descended into a mission-orientated spree of some form, becoming more and more unstable as time went on. They just weren't sure what his particular crusade was about.

The only link seemed to be Pip, as disturbing as that conclusion was. Cho had requested her presence in Chicago, then completely cut her out of the investigation. Everything the profilers had learned from her, whether it was background on Henderson or answers about Rostov, had all been when Cho wasn't around.

Which started Rossi wondering, as he drove aimlessly around the city. Did Pip know something incriminating about Cho? Perhaps it wasn't something she'd consciously thought about, something seen and long forgotten, some little detail that Cho didn't want the profilers to know? That thought led to another, one he tried to quash and couldn't. If Pip was a loose end, Cho would kill her, as he had probably killed the undercover agent high up in Rostov's organisation, and possibly for the same reason.

Rossi parked up outside the building where he and Morgan had met Simmonds, still deep in thought. There was a connection they were all missing, he was sure of it, some little shred of information that would make it all fall into place.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, as Rossi gazed blankly through the windshield.

 _The crime scene tape had been cut._

Someone had snuck into the building, barely hours after the techs had cleared up and gone home. Rossi fumbled his cell when it started to ring, unable to take his eyes off the broken seal.

"Rossi, it's definitely Cho behind all this," said Morgan when he finally answered. "We found a reference to a second address he's been renting for cash and checked it out. It's all here, it's written on the walls." He hesitated. "Why'd it take you so long to pick up?"

Rossi opened the door and started to climb out of the SUV. "I'm outside that old building where we met Simmonds. Someone's broken in."

"Rossi, wait for us," said Morgan sternly. "If it's him, trust me, he's packin', and I don't mean his Bureau sidearm. He's been working on his aim, I'm holding what I think he shot Simmonds with."

"You're probably an hour away through traffic, and I can't call for backup until we know if he's working with anyone else," replied Rossi impatiently, closing the car door quietly. "If she's in there, I'm going to find her." He hung up before Morgan could respond and drew his weapon.

The path around the complicated plumbing was a little less confusing since he'd already walked through it several times, and Rossi quickly made his way towards the sound of two voices echoing in the central chamber. One of whom was Pip, to his eternal relief.

Rossi peered round the doorframe carefully. Pip was tied to a chair, not three feet from where Simmonds had fallen only a matter of hours previously. His blood was still drying. She had a bruise on her temple but seemed otherwise unhurt.

"You don't remember this place?" Cho stood in front of her with a crazed look in his eyes and a gun in his hand. He spun around, hands in the air, gesturing to the carcass of rusty steel and crumbling brick that surrounded them. It had started to rain outside, a thin evening drizzle that added to the reverberating echoes a steady drip-drip-drip- _plink!_ as water made its way groundward through the various holes in the roof and down assorted metalwork.

"Should I?" asked Pip. "I must say, if you're thinking of investing, I recommend you get a structural engineer to check it over," she added glibly. "It looks like one good sneeze and we can both kiss our asses goodbye."

Rossi winced. Her particular brand of humour was not a good way to negotiate with an unstable man holding a gun. He sidled through the door, and circled the pair of them, sticking to the shadows and keeping his movements slow and deliberate. While he tried to keep quiet, he didn't attempt absolute silence. There was enough background noise to muffle any sounds he made, and he knew from his time in Vietnam that a moving patch of silence was even more noticeable than someone walking normally.

"This is where you _should_ have been," hissed Cho. "Instead of walking into an ambush. You had the tip, it was in the file! Rostov had a _huge_ shipment going through here that afternoon, you could have locked him up and thrown away the key!"

"We had hundreds of tips like that!" cried Pip. "Thousands! For fuck's sake, Danny, you _know_ how many there were! Boxes and boxes of them, we were there for months going through it all! Not everything could be followed up, we had to prioritise…learn things," Pip shook her head with an absent smile as if remembering something. Or someone.

"Who decided to ignore this one? You? That two-faced adulterer you called a boss?" Cho paused. "No, Adeola could lie to his wife, but not to his team. It was Collingwood, wasn't it? He was the one that ruined everything, sold out his badge." he sneered.

"Leave Ian out of this," snapped Pip. "He was a good agent and an even better man."

"Either _you_ were a traitor, or you were _fucking_ a traitor!" Cho cried. "Which is it?"

"Neither," said Pip firmly. "Danny, you're not well, you're seeing things that don't exist. Stop this before you do something even more stupid."

"I'm doing what's _right_ ," insisted Cho stridently. "The people responsible need to be punished! I trusted Pat and he betrayed me. He tried to tell me to stop! To let it go, to move on. He got what was coming."

"Sounds like Henderson was trying to do you a favour, like he was trying to stop you going off the rails," retorted Pip. "He was your partner!" She looked up briefly and caught sight of Rossi creeping closer, quickly averting her eyes so as not to give away his position. "There's still time, Danny," she said gently. "You need help. Untie me, let me take you back to my team. I'll even speak up for you, just let me loose."

"You think you're so _clever_ ," spat Cho. "You and your profiling friends. They can't help you now, no one knows where we are, and they wouldn't think to look for you here. You're not going anywhere until you admit what you've done, and then I'm going to kill you so that justice is finally served."

Pip sighed. "What do you want me to say? Yes, I was involved with Ian, not that it was a secret, but _neither_ of us had anything to do with what went wrong. I'm sorry about Becky, I really am, but it wasn't my fault! I didn't even know you two were together until after you were taken off the investigation. She was my friend, and I miss her too."

"Don't you _dare_ speak her name!" exclaimed Cho, spittle flying. He started pacing back and forth, edging away from Pip as if she were a contagion. "You don't get to talk about her, you _killed_ her. You know _nothing_ of how I feel."

Now Cho had his back to him, Rossi moved out of the shadows, mentally shouting, " _keep him talking,_ bella!" in his head.

He could have sworn he saw Pip nod slightly.

"I know her death hurt you, like Ian's hurt me," said Pip lowly. "I know what it's like to wake up and forget, just for a moment, that they aren't there anymore. I know your career was never the same after the investigation got shelved, same as mine wasn't. I understand, Danny. Really, I do," she insisted when Cho scoffed in disbelief.

"She wasn't even supposed to be there that day!" cried Cho. "She said that morning that you'd swapped her out with another agent, so it's your fault she was even with you."

That was the final piece of the puzzle. Rightly or wrongly, Cho blamed Pip for putting Hollis in the firing line.

Pip frowned, clearly confused. "Becky asked to swap," she said slowly. "I couldn't make that call, I was only Ade's second, not the Agent in Charge. Ade made the final decision, but it was at Becky's request."

"I don't believe you!" screamed Cho, raising the gun until it was level with Pip's chest. "Liar!"

"Drop your gun, Cho," said Rossi quietly, nudging Cho in the back with his own weapon. "Nice and slow, and we'll get you some help."

"I don't need your help!" screamed Cho and fired. Pip slumped over in the chair with a groan, a wet red wound opening in her chest. Horrified, Rossi froze for a moment, giving Cho enough time to dart out of his reach and duck behind one of the creaking uprights supporting the mezzanine walkway above them. "I might have known _you'd_ turn up," he mocked, his gun now trained on Rossi. "You're up to your old tricks again, aren't you, Harker?" he sneered in Pip's direction. "I see the way he looks at you. Seduced your boss this time, didn't you? Classy."

Pip didn't respond, held upright only by the ropes that bound her hands behind her. Cho laughed. Rossi took a step in her direction, only to be halted as Cho put a round into the concrete barely an inch from his foot. He backed up, seeking some cover of his own. He'd be no good to Pip if Cho killed him.

"Let me go to her," Rossi pleaded from behind the dubious protection of an old oil drum, aware that he sounded exactly like the distraught lover he actually was. " _Please_. She needs medical attention." Hopefully. Hopefully she needed medical attention, because the alternative was the coroner. Rossi was trying valiantly to not think that too loud, in case thinking it somehow made it happen.

Cho needed medical attention too, but for entirely different reasons. Grief was a powerful thing, and Rossi had heard enough to realise Cho had been driven mad by the loss of his girlfriend in the same shooting that nearly killed Pip, and that he blamed Pip for all of it.

"Kick your weapon towards me," said Cho, leaning out from behind the rusty support. "Then you can cradle the corpse of your girlfriend."

Enraged, Rossi fired at him instead, starting an exchange of gunfire that achieved nothing, for either man.

"You're out," called Cho smugly.

"So are you," countered Rossi, trying to work out if that was true, because through the reverberating mental scream of _oh God, she's dead,_ he couldn't remember how many Cho had fired. Was he out? Rossi wasn't sure about Cho, but he certainly was, and his spare clip was still in the car. He delved his hand into his pocket. The single round he now kept there out of habit practically _leapt_ into his fingers and Rossi chambered it manually as quietly as he could. It wasn't accepted procedure, and he risked an accidental discharge, but it was the only way he was going to get a shot at Cho. Rossi was determined to do that, even if it was the last thing he ever did. He'd take the bastard down with him if he had to.

"So where does that leave us?" asked Cho, sounding a little uncertain for the first time.

He could almost hear Pip's voice in his head. _It's not gone how he thought and now he's scared. He always was a cowardly little ferret. Negotiate, Dave. That's what you're good at. Tell the fuckwit what he wants to hear, make him trust you._ One thing to think it, quite another to do it; especially when that piece of mental advice came with her unique inflections while her blood dripped onto the floor nearby. Yet Rossi could think calmly once more, a cool sort of clarity descending over him.

"Our guns are empty, I'd ask if you want to try throwing stones at each other, but there aren't any," quipped Rossi in reply, "I wouldn't recommend smashing the walls to get your hands on a brick or two, not unless you want to be buried in rubble. So, we're reduced to talking to each other. I'll start: you can still turn yourself in before this goes any further. You can still do the right thing."

"I _am_ doing the right thing!"

"What do you want, Danny? Explain it to me."

"I want the people responsible for killing my girl to pay!" cried Cho, voice thick with tears. "I want there to be some _justice_!"

"I can understand that," said Rossi, "Rostov…"

"Oh, the great and invincible Sergei Rostov," interrupted Cho with a sneer. "I got fed up of people telling me he was too well connected, too canny to be caught. Someone told him where they'd be that day, and someone buried the information regarding his whereabouts. I want to know who it was!"

So, unable to exact revenge on the man ultimately responsible for the events of that calamitous day, Cho had made it his personal mission to find out who the leak was. Rossi could sympathise with that to a degree, even as he watched Pip's lifeblood soak through her clothing and pool on the floor. That sympathy gave him something in common with Cho, something he could build on to develop a rapport with him, and maybe get out of the situation alive with Cho dead at his feet.

"I'm sure Pip wanted to know as well. You got taken off the investigation when they found out you were involved with one of the dead agents, didn't they?" Rossi asked gently. "That must have been hard."

"They said I was too close!" exclaimed Cho, as if that was utterly ridiculous. "Nobody else was as passionate about it, and they got nowhere. They should have let me see it through!"

Out the corner of his eye, Rossi could see Pip moving slightly and heaved a heart-felt sigh of relief. For the moment at least, she was still alive. For how much longer remained to be seen. He was learning a lot but hadn't actually got anywhere with Cho. Pip was alive, which gave him the option of a different tactic.

"That must have been frustrating. Help me. Help me find out the ones who did this to you, in Becky's memory." At the very edge of his hearing…was that sirens? It was. Either Morgan had rounded up some backup they could trust, or he'd committed every traffic violation known to man and broken the land speed record to cross the city so quickly.

Cho sidled out a little from behind his cover, but not quite enough for Rossi to have a clear shot. "You'd do that?" he asked suspiciously. He glanced towards Pip, who ceased her movements, playing dead. Although from the amount of blood under the chair, it wouldn't be much longer before she wasn't playing at it any more. "Even though I killed her?"

"Of course I will," Rossi reassured him, dragging Cho's attention back to himself, raising his voice, hoping the persistent echo would help drown out the sound of the cavalry on final approach. They'd killed the sirens, but it sounded like at least three engines were being thrashed to the edge of endurance to get there in time. "Justice is important. It's why I joined the Bureau. Put down your weapon and we can get out of here and find Rostov, find some justice together. Just you and me."

"Ok." Cho took two steps clear of the steel and knelt down to put his weapon on the floor, before cocking his head, hearing their backup screech to a halt outside. "You tricked me!" he cried despondently, darting to his feet. "I trusted you!"

"No tricks," said Rossi, and shot him.

Cho dived for cover as soon as he saw Rossi raise the Springfield, so the round that was supposed to have killed him outright went through his shoulder instead. Cho flew backwards and collapsed on the floor, his gun spinning away into the shadows.

Rossi took the opportunity to dash to Pip's side, desperate to see how she was. He skidded to a halt next to her, slipping a little in the ominous red puddle. He held his hand over the gaping wound, and applied pressure. "Stay with me, Pip," he murmured.

Cho chuckled wetly from the floor. "Bit late for that. You can take her home in a box." He coughed, blood spilling over his lips.

"Sorry to disappoint, Danny-boy," wheezed Pip, raising her head, "but I don't think so. These new vests are rather good, although I must say it chafes a little under the armpits."

Overwhelmed by relief, Rossi forgot himself entirely and he kissed her, even as Cho howled in rage. He realised that what he could feel under his palm wasn't a fatal wound but actually a flattened slug, and the slightly squishy remains of a blood pack she'd worn over the top of her vest. Somehow, Pip had known.

"Thought I'd lost you," he murmured as they parted. "You got to stop doing this to me, I'm an old man." He wiped his wet hand on her shirt with an apologetic glance. It was ruined anyway, why not? He'd buy her another.

Pip coughed with a pained sort of grimace. "You won't get much older if you kiss me like that again while I'm still trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Get me out of this so you can do it properly or I'm going to make decorations out of your entrails."

Rossi laughed in hysterical relief and started to struggle with the knots to set her free. Cho took full advantage of his distraction and clambered slowly to his feet.

"Dave, he's getting away…Dave?"

"He's bleeding badly, he won't get far," replied Rossi confidently, as Cho started to lurch in the direction of the door, "either he'll fall over before he makes it, or our backup will catch him, he can't move very fast. I'm more worried about being the centrepiece of this year's Halloween arrangement."

Ropes untied, Rossi pulled Pip to her feet and stripped her out of the blood-soaked shirt to reveal the vest she'd worn. It was a style he'd not seen before, thinner, lighter, more flexible than any he'd worn himself. Cho had never noticed she was wearing it under her clothing. A large blood pack dangled limply from the front, still oozing slightly.

Vest removed and tossed aside, Rossi kissed her again, running his hands up her sides as she held his shirt and pulled him tighter against her.

"That's more like it," whispered Pip when they came up for air, "now give me your jacket, I don't want everyone seeing my bra."

Rossi chuckled and draped his jacket around her shoulders, taking a moment to look at the bruise the shot had caused already darkening on her skin. "How did you know?"

Pip shook her head, refusing the question. "It's complicated."

Wasn't it always? Rossi shook his head. The pair of them turned as Cho stumbled into the doorframe, coming face-to-face with Morgan. Cho backed up slowly, edging back into the room. Rossi watched with some satisfaction as Cho quivered in front of Morgan's expression of glowering fury. Lurking behind Morgan, guns at the ready, were two plain-clothes CPD officers looking equally grim.

"You won't shoot an unarmed man," Cho said to Morgan, in a show of almost uncharacteristic bravado. "You like to come across all hard man, but you're a goody-goody two shoes."

"Don't test me, man, not today," snarled Morgan, gun aimed firmly at Cho's head. "Not after I've seen the things you've done."

Cho's face contorted with anger, fury overriding pain and blood loss, temporarily at least. "Someone had to see justice prevailed!"

"You paid someone to kill your own partner! A good man, with a son! How much more unjustified can you get?" thundered Morgan.

"I had to find out the truth!" Cho yelled, then swayed on his feet. "Harker…it was her, it was always her, all along! You can't trust her!"

"And you think I should trust you?" asked Morgan harshly. "Turn around! I'm gonna cuff you to a stretcher and tell everyone in the ER to work their hardest on you, just so I have the privilege of watching you rot in a cell for the rest of your miserable life."

Behind him, one of the officers muttered something to his partner and they exchanged a satisfied smirk. The shorter of the two exchanged a subtle nod with Pip.

"No, please, you have to believe me! She's sleeping with your team leader!" cried Cho desperately. "You can't believe anything she says!"

Pip burst into pained laughter, still holding the borrowed jacket closed. She looked Rossi up and down critically and shook her head. "I don't think so," she said drily. "No offence, boss."

Rossi sighed. "I'm devastated," he deadpanned, clutching his chest as if it pained him. "Marrying a bossy know-it-all who can't keep her opinions to herself was always a life goal of mine." Not _always_ , that much was true, but for the past few years it _certainly_ had been a goal of his.

"Like I could put up with you and your freakish neatness," retorted Pip. She shuddered. "Urgh, that would just be too weird."

"Yeah, I can't see it either," growled Morgan. "Cho, turn around before I shoot you."

Cho collapsed instead, and Morgan sighed disgustedly. He cuffed the unconscious man and turned to the two cops behind him. "Get him an ambulance," he spat, getting to his feet and brushing past them. "I don't want to even look at him anymore."

* * *

Cho's second apartment had been a veritable goldmine of information. He'd turned the entire space into an office from which he had ceaselessly worked the investigation into the shooting that had killed his girlfriend Becky Hollis, and by extension, the workings of Rostov's empire in Chicago. He had years' worth of records, detailing the links he'd made, the people he'd tracked down. His methods had been unconventional; there were several taped confessions that Cho had beaten out of gang members, and a series of firearms, all reported stolen. Much of his work was written, as Morgan had said, on the walls. In green marker pen. If that didn't confirm that he was long overdue a stay in a loonybin, what would?

Ballistics confirmed that Cho had been a one-man crime spree for many years, edging closer to Rostov with every confirmed lead he tortured out of his victims. Most of the deaths had been written off as gang violence, given their known connections with that life. Others were still open and unsolved.

Yet, in all that time, Cho hadn't moved on from his original assumption regarding the identity of the leak in the operation: that it had been either Pip or Ian. Collingwood's record was clean, and although Pip's was a little more heavy-going, nothing stood out as a reason for his suspicion. She had a smattering of Conduct reprimands for minor insubordination and a quite a few citations for inappropriate language, but that was all. Nothing surprising for anyone who knew Pip and the way she was. Cho had focussed on the two of them to exclusion of all others, despite the complete lack of evidence pointing to either of them. It showed how fixated Cho had become, because he already had everything he needed to work out who it had been.

It had taken Garcia only a cursory glance through Cho's personal laptop, a device he'd wrapped in tinfoil and hidden under the stove, to unearth everything Cho had ignored, consciously or otherwise. Becky Hollis had been the leak. Becky's father had been a gambler, and had ended up owing a lot of money to the wrong people after slipping an extra ace into a high-stakes card game. The flow of information Becky provided to Rostov regarding the operation to apprehend him was the lifeline that kept her father alive long enough to pay off his debt. The debt was paid, and then Becky was killed. Her father drank himself into an early grave shortly afterwards.

It turned out that Simmonds had been another one of Rostov's contacts that Cho had tracked down, and instead of killing him, had employed him to carry out various acts of violence to further the investigation. Simmonds was loyal to whoever was currently paying him and had been responsible for the death of Pat Henderson, among others. Cho had then killed both Simmonds and the Agent he'd taken with him supposedly to search the docks. His body was found dumped in the water less than a mile from the crumbling building Simmonds had died in. The missing undercover was still missing, but the profilers had been told quite firmly by the new leader of the task force that his whereabouts was no longer their problem.

"I still have trouble believing it all," murmured Pip as they flew home. She was sat at the back of the jet again, but after everything that had happened, Rossi joined her, unable to let her leave his sight even for a moment. He'd settled himself with his back to the tail of the plane so he could still see the rest of the cabin. He'd insisted she get checked over by a paramedic, despite her objections. She was a little sore but otherwise fine, although the bruise on her temple would take a while to fade. Wherever she'd got that mysterious vest from, it had done its job, but she'd been rather evasive about its origins and how she'd known she'd need it.

"I really liked Becky," Pip added. "I mean, we weren't best friends or anything, but I thought I knew her. She came over to dinner several times in the tiny apartment Ian and I were sharing while we were posted there. I never suspected…and we were starting to suspect _everyone_ , it never occurred to me…or _any_ of us, that it might be her."

"Sometimes we hide things from our friends and loved ones," said Rossi. "I know you know that all too well."

"I do," agreed Pip sadly. "Yet it all has a way of surfacing, doesn't it? One way or another." Part of the evidence uncovered in Cho's apartment had been partial medical records, and both Morgan and JJ had learned of the loss of her baby. Pip shivered a little and clutched her arms.

"You cold?" asked Rossi in concern.

No," replied Pip, and sniffed. "My friend was a traitor and died for it, along with too many others. Her grieving boyfriend is going to be locked up in a psychiatric facility for the rest of his life. There's a son who will never see his father again. All those lives ruined, all those people dead, then and now, and Rostov is still out there." Her eyes brimmed over. "I could just really do with a hug right about now," she whimpered, lip trembling.

"Under the circumstances, I think we'll get away with it," whispered Rossi and folded her into his arms. Seeing Pip upset would always be his weakness, his kryptonite, and he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried. Pip leaned against him, muffling her tears in his shirt. Rossi cast a quick glance at Morgan, trying to judge how long he could hold on.

Morgan just gave him an understanding smile and answered his cell as it started to ring. "Hey Sweetness…" Morgan smiled. "Course I did," he replied when Garcia gave him a chance to speak. "You think I'd forget to bring you back a lil somethin? I got my somethin' for you right here, in my hand," he said suggestively, turning the small cat figurine he bought her over and over on the table in front of him. "You want it, Babygirl?" He laughed in response to what she said. "You know it," he replied, and hung up. "Any of you three fancy a card game? I got twenty dollars left over from buying Garcia's present that's just _burnin'_ a hole in my pocket," he announced cheerfully.

Pip extricated herself from Rossi's jacket, where she'd been making a determined effort to burrow inside as if seeking protection. "I'm in," she said, wiping her eyes as she turned around. "Prepare to lose your money."

"I don't think so little lady," teased Morgan, as if he couldn't see the tears she was trying to stifle. "You've never seen me play."

"This already sounds too expensive for my taste," muttered JJ, retreating back behind her fashion magazine.

Rossi chuckled. "I'll officiate, to prevent any bloodshed. What's the game?"

Pip parked herself confidently opposite Morgan at the table. "Texas Hold 'em, killgame, aces swing."

Morgan grinned. "Feisty! You're on."

* * *

Morgan was still complaining about being out of pocket as the four of them made their way through the glass doors into the BAU. JJ could barely keep a straight face, and Rossi was no better. Pip had taken Morgan to the cleaners, upping the ante from money to paperwork to favours and she'd won. He owed her a month's worth of timely prelim reports, instead of handing them in late, and a complete remodel of her kitchen. Oh, and fifty dollars. Morgan had only mentioned that about a hundred times since they landed. He seemed more put out by that than everything else he'd lost.

" _Fifty_ dollars! Last time I play cards with you, you hustler," Morgan grumbled good-naturedly, nudging Pip with his shoulder. "Should have known you could play if you hang around with him," he said, pointing at Rossi.

Pip smiled sweetly. "Your prelim is due tomorrow by eleven. Don't be late," was all she said, peeling off the group to make her way smugly to her desk.

JJ gave up trying to hold in the laughter. Still giggling as she dumped her stuff on her desk, she picked up her handbag, leaving the rest where she'd dropped it. "I did mine before we left," she said, smugly waving a report sheet at them. "I'll leave you two boys to do your homework," she teased, "I'm going home."

They exchanged farewells, JJ handing Pip her report as she left. Morgan dropped down into his seat with a sigh, briefly eying the pile of paperwork with distaste before looking up at Rossi. Rossi perched himself on the edge of an empty desk. Pip wouldn't be ready for him for a few minutes or so, and he could feel the curiosity rolling off Morgan in waves.

"How long you two been close?" Morgan asked, indicating Pip with a subtle nod over Rossi's left shoulder in the direction of her desk. "You are, I can see it."

"For a while," said Rossi, a touch wary. After trying to keep it purely professional while Pip fell apart in front of him, it was little wonder Morgan had seen more than he should have done while they were in Chicago. Combined with Cho's allegations, even though everyone had laughed it off, he knew they'd pushed their luck with that hug on the jet. "Certainly long enough to know that I'd never take her up on a card game," he added with a smirk, trying to downplay the relationship.

"Now he tells me," groaned Morgan. "Couldn't have mentioned it earlier, huh? Fifty dollars, man! She's worse than Reid!" He shook his head, the teasing look turning more thoughtful. "She was close with Gideon as well, apparently; but you're the same as me and Garcia, except you two are less…I dunno, open about it. You always seem to be at each other's throats, no offence."

Rossi relaxed. Secure in his own purely platonic relationship with a member of the opposite sex, Morgan assumed that was the situation between he and Pip. "What you see is what you get," he replied with a smile. "You and Garcia flirt, we fight. Believe me, she's just as bossy and opinionated outside of work. That's the way it is between us."

It wasn't the whole truth, but there was enough to pass in poor light. Enough apparently to satisfy Morgan's curiosity, from the easy nod and accepting shrug Rossi got in response.

"I could see how worried about her you were," said Morgan seriously. "Even before we flew out." He blew out a long breath, twirling his pen between his fingers. "I gotta hand it to you, Rossi. If it had been my Babygirl that Cho had tied up and shot, I don't know if I coulda kept my cool like you did. He was dyin' on his feet in front of me, and I _still_ nearly shot him anyway."

Looking back on it, Rossi wasn't sure how he'd managed it either. Shock, maybe. Combined with adrenaline and a ruthless desire to get Cho for killing Pip, perhaps that had given him the edge. He'd probably never know, because those few minutes when he thought she was dead were not ones he was planning to revisit. Ever.

Added to that, was the continuing question about that blasted vest. He _still_ didn't have a straight answer out of Pip about where it had come from, because it certainly hadn't been issued by the Bureau, and more importantly, how she'd known to wear it in the first place.

"You're slacking, I've had the closing paperwork on your desk for a good five minutes and you haven't sworn at it once yet," said Pip, having crept up unnoticed on both of them while they were talking. "Get a move on, some of us have beds to go to."

Morgan snorted and Rossi grinned. He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "see what I mean?" before turning to Pip. "I shall saddle up the vocabulary just for you, which means it will take even longer as I evaluate, pontificate, prevaricate and generally use words of three syllables or more in order to avoid a single profanity crossing my lips," Rossi said pompously, puffing out his chest.

Pip rolled her eyes, but not before they sparkled in his direction. "Yeah, whatever. Get your butt in that chair and pen in use, mister. I'll be there in a few minutes unless I hear expletives, in which case I'll hang around outside for a while to see if you've improved your creativity."

"I can see how much you impressed her," teased Morgan, once Pip had left them. "She takes a whole _heap_ of notice that you're the boss."

Rossi cocked his head. "Are you in charge, or is Garcia?" he asked pointedly.

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I hear that. Speaking of which, I'm going to present Our Lady of Tech Miracles with her gift," he said as he stood. He glanced over at Pip and sat down again. "Maybe I'll just get this lot started first," he mumbled. Morgan dragged the top sheaf of forms towards him. "She's watching us, Rossi. I'd do as she says."

Rossi took a quick sideways peek of his own. "I'm going, I'm going," he assured her, holding his hands up in surrender and moving in the direction of his office. He could still hear Morgan sniggering as he pulled the first folder off the pile and started to read.


	20. Consequences Part 1

_Consequences Part 1_

 _ **She was fury, she was wrath, she was vengeance - Sarah J. Maas**_

"Sign there…and there…initial there, there and there, sign and date at the bottom."

The last piece of paper was whipped away, and a folder replaced it. "Prelim reports, they're all there, even Morgan's," said Pip, "might as well get them signed now, as they're done." She sat back in her seat in front of Rossi's desk to give him time to read through them.

Rossi scanned the reports idly, knowing that unless there were major issues, he'd be signing them all off anyway. The actual case reports weren't due for another week or so, but the prelims had to be in within twelve hours of returning to base.

Her report was last in the pile. He looked up briefly once he'd read it, studying her slightly furtive expression. He looked back down, his eyes zeroing in on the part that interested him the most.

" _Uncomfortable with Agent Cho's request, I insisted on using the bathroom before leaving with him. Using that as an excuse, I found a vest in the armoury to put on. There was also a spare blood pack, which I picked up on impulse."_

She'd left out _everything_ that was important. Rossi glanced up at Pip once more before signing the report with a flourish and tucking the pile back in the folder. "Is that all the paperwork done?" he asked casually, handing her the folder.

Pip twitched, like she'd been expecting a different question. "That's it, we're good to go."

Rossi gave her an easy smile and stood to gather his coat. "Your place or mine? Or do you want to go out? Mama Rosa's will still be open."

Pip shuddered, another clear sign that the calm, chirpy exterior masked a veritable hurricane inside. "Mine. I need somewhere…small, where I can see all four walls. I can barely see the horizon in your living room."

It was an exaggeration of course, but the sentiment remained. It was a little unsettling to realise that Pip still didn't always feel comfortable in his house. No wonder she didn't want to move in.

* * *

Dinner was comfort food, which in Pip's terms, meant bacon. Two enormous bacon sandwiches later, they were snuggled together on her sofa with a bottle of red, absently watching and taking no notice of a late-night nature documentary about kangaroos.

"Pip, that vest…" started Rossi.

"You read my prelim," Pip interrupted, shifting so she wasn't lounged against him anymore. He always knew it would be a difficult conversation, but it felt like Pip was gearing up for battle.

Rossi nodded. "Yes, I did," he said with a raised eyebrow. "I just don't believe it."

"You _signed_ it."

Which made it a legal record. He knew what he'd done.

"Yes, I did," Rossi agreed firmly, "and it will go in the file along with your case report, which will undoubtedly be just as light on the actual _details_ as your prelim. I trust you. There's obviously a reason you left out certain things, so I signed it, and I'll sign your case report too." He paused to let that sink in and took a deep breath. "But you _didn't_ get that vest from the armoury, big blood packs like that aren't just _lying around_ waiting to be picked up, and _nothing_ in your report explains why you knew you'd need either in the first place. I want to know the truth."

Pip had the good grace to look a little ashamed, although that could have been because he'd caught her out so easily. "Bit of a long story."

Rossi snorted. "Always is."

Pip shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so." She relaxed back next to him and took a sip of her wine.

"How did you know?"

"I got a tip-off."

"Who from?" Twenty Questions wasn't what he'd had in mind, but he'd do it if he had to.

"Dirty cop who isn't," replied Pip with a rueful half-smile. She chuckled a little as Rossi raised a disbelieving eyebrow in her direction. "Told you it was complicated, didn't I? He came and found me when I was out getting coffee, just popped up next to me without a sound. He…" Pip paused. "I'm not sure quite how to explain it…he's a dirty cop, he takes payoffs from gangs, everyone knows that, they're all just too scared to say it…but no one knows he's running for Internal Affairs too, and the money goes to crime victims and local churches and soup kitchens and stuff. Almost like a twisted version of Robin Hood, but…I mean, the things I've heard about him…him _and_ his partner…stories of people disappearing and being buried somewhere when they get on the wrong side of him, signed confessions that come with bloodstains, or written on napkins pinned to the body, stuff like that. I wouldn't like to speculate on Cho's life expectancy in custody. Even if only a tiny bit of the lore is true, he's pissed off one scary bad dude."

"And you trusted this guy?" That was the first thing Rossi had trouble understanding. There were others, but Pip's trust issues meant there were still things she kept from _him_. To expend so much of such a rare commodity on someone so utterly unworthy was completely unlike her. "He sounds like the rottenest apple in the barrel."

Pip swirled her wine around in the glass. "He told me something only Ian and I knew, then followed up that shock with an even bigger one. He was Ian's connection in CPD, a source of intel on gang activities and internal politics in the areas Rostov controlled…he was basically an undocumented confidential informant, and from what I remember, some of our smaller wins we had were entirely down to what he passed onto Ian. He was far more involved than I ever knew because Ian never told us where he got his information."

"And he told you Cho was behind Henderson's death? Warned you to find a vest?"

"No, he gave me the vest and blood pack and held my wallet and cell while I used the backseat of his car to put it on." Pip chuckled. "Not as easy as it sounds, believe me. It's a new private sector prototype yet to be released and it doesn't do up the same way as the ones I've worn before. I practically tied myself in knots trying to get into it without flashing the entire street." She rolled her eyes. "Only one in existence and I ruin it with a blood pack and a round dead centre. I'd like to see how he's going to explain _that_."

"Hey." Rossi nudged her with his shoulder. "This is me you're talking to. I _know_ you." Quit with the light-hearted humour, in other words, because he wasn't buying a single word. "Why trust _him_ , of all people?"

Pip sighed. "I didn't. I wasn't going to do anything but _exactly_ what he said to be honest, because he's the sort of guy where you feel like every second, he's barely restraining himself from beating you to a bloody pulp. Scared me shitless. He said he wanted Cho for his own reasons, told me that one of the men killed during Cho's little campaign was an informant and a friend of his." She snorted. "I've no idea if any of that's even true. I didn't think so at the time, but frankly I figured if I was helping him get his revenge, I wasn't in his way, you know? Didn't matter if it was true, only that he thought it was. I get the feeling that people don't tend live long if they're standing in his way."

"Was he one of the cops that came with Morgan?" asked Rossi, remembering the two men smirking at each other. Morgan had told him of the police escort under lights and sirens that felt like a Presidential motorcade through the city, from two CPD officers that had followed them to Cho's second apartment and offered their help to bring him in.

Pip nodded. "Him and his partner, yes. They put a tracker on the vest, but I guess there must have been a problem with it, because I expected them to arrive before you."

Little acts of justice made the world keep turning. Cho was locked up where he belonged, in the unlikely event he was ever deemed fit, he'd stand trial for what he'd done, provived he lived that long. With some unsung help from a dirty-ish cop that needed to stay out of the reports, Pip was alive, and they'd got their man. Rossi could live with that, and he'd sign her report as he promised, missing details and all.

He reached over to gently cup her jaw in his hand. "Does that still hurt?" he asked, running his thumb softly over the bruise at her temple.

"Only my pride," she muttered, leaning into his touch. "Cho accosted me just as I was coming back with the coffee. He said he wanted to apologise, and that he wanted to show me something." She shrugged. "He seemed really genuine and I wanted to believe him. He didn't hit me until after I'd got in the car, and when I woke up I was bound and blindfolded. I feel rather stupid, actually."

For all that Pip said she was unforgiving, her capacity for compassion was astonishing. Perhaps to the point of being a little naïve. Rossi would certainly never got into a car with Cho, no matter how much he abased himself. He pulled her into his side, back where she'd been nestled before the conversation had started. "You're alive, that's the only thing I care about," he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I knew you'd get there in time," replied Pip absently. "I told you before that I know you've got my back."

"Of course I have." Rossi hugged her a little tighter. "But I'm going to start chaining you to your desk so you don't end up in these situations in the first place."

Pip snorted. "Whips and chains? David Rossi, is there something you want to tell me?" she teased.

Rossi laughed. "You know all there is to know." Including the fact that he had a bit of a kink for handcuffs. She really did know everything.

Except, that wasn't really true, was it? The siren call of his latest foray into jewellery catalogues sounded out once more from the bottom of his go-bag, much as it had on the jet. A silent chime of knowing that only he could hear. He'd show her, later. Much later, like maybe in six months, or even a year. Not yet. But there was something he _could_ show her...Rossi stood to rummage in his bag.

"I bought you something," he said, holding out the box hesitantly. He was almost positive she'd like it, but there was always a chance that she wouldn't.

Pip opened the box to reveal a little gold apple pendant on a chain. "Oh, Dave! It's beautiful!" She tugged her plait to one side and offered her neck invitingly. "Would you?"

He took great pleasure in draping the fine chain around her neck, and even more when Pip pulled him around for a blistering kiss. It seemed he had a good grasp on her taste in jewellery, reassuring knowledge indeed. Looking down at her, the apple rested gently against the bruise on her chest from Cho's round. Her luck had held, but Pip's relationship with luck was a complicated one. She seemed to survive the unsurvivable, yet fall foul to the simplest of things.

She caught the direction of his gaze and shifted her shirt so the bruise was concealed once more. Fair enough, Rossi decided. If she didn't want to talk about it yet, then that was ok. He wasn't in the mood to think about how much danger she'd been in either.

They retired to bed once the wine was empty, the evening passing in quiet reflection for both of them.

"Are you going to be ok about everything that happened?" asked Rossi as she snuggled into him. He fully expected her to have nightmares.

Pip shrugged in his arms. "It's nice to know some of the reasons I guess. I never knew why we were ambushed, and now I do, not that it changes anything."

Because the man behind it all was still at large. Rossi hugged her tighter, surrounding her with his physical presence. "He'll get himself caught eventually," he asserted. "They always do."

"Yeah, for _tax evasion_ ," snorted Pip. "Not exactly the closure I was looking for."

Several days later, Rossi wished he'd paid more attention to that.

* * *

The following morning started innocently enough. Pip had predictably suffered through a restless night's sleep punctuated by bad dreams, and as it was a Saturday, the two of them simply migrated from bed to sofa to drowse the day away. It was warm in her apartment and Rossi was making the most of it – dressed only in his boxers, he lounged back against the arm of the sofa with Pip nestled between his legs, using his chest as a pillow as she caught up on the sleep she didn't get the night before.

He was contemplating whether he ought to wake her so he could use the bathroom, or if he could afford wait another five minutes. There was something completely adorable about the way Pip had basically curled up on him, not that he'd ever mention that while she was conscious, not if he wanted to keep his balls where they belonged. But while she was safely asleep, snuggled into him, her slow even breaths tickling the hair on his chest, Pip was definitely adorable and he hadn't wanted to move and disturb her.

That all came to an end as her cell started to bray a nineties pop-punk tune that began with a raucous drum intro. Fucking tune was enough to wake the dead, and it certainly woke Pip. Her hand groped blindly for her cell, missing twice before Rossi used his longer reach to snag it from the coffee table and put it in front of her, by then screaming a guitar solo. Pip mumbled something that was probably appreciation in some form, although she was perfectly capable of saying "thank you" in a way that sounded like "fuck off", even when half asleep.

Rossi extricated himself from underneath her as she sat up to answer the call. The easy smile she gave him was all the reassurance Rossi needed to move in the direction of the bathroom without worrying who she was talking to. Some friend or other that he didn't know, that much was clear. Not the Bureau calling them back in for a case.

"You're sure?" Pip was asking as Rossi returned. "I don't want to…really? Well, in that case, I'd love to, I'm not going to turn down an opportunity like that! Who…" She rolled her eyes at the response. "You want to watch yourself with that one. Slippery as an eel, and a morality so twisted he could walk through a corkscrew sideways with _no_ trouble." Pip laughed at something her friend said, catching Rossi's eye to include him in the smile. "Boy trouble" she mouthed at him before grinning once more. "I'll see them there." She hung up. "I've been invited to a weekend thing with some friends of a friend. She's had to pull out and she's offering to let me go in her place."

Rossi would have been lying if he said he didn't mind, that he hadn't been hoping for two days of just the two of them after the stress of Chicago, but the look on her face meant he never mention it. Pip looked so excited by the idea that Rossi couldn't find it in his heart to put any kind of hurdle in the way of her plans.

So, Pip packed a bag and vanished, leaving Rossi alone in her apartment feeling at a bit of a loose end. Since Mudgie had passed, just sitting and playing solitaire or reading seemed a bit…lonely. Impulsively, Rossi dug out some clothes and padded down two flights of stairs to see Griffin.

Griffin's door was open and the sounds of activity from within drew him inside. "Griffin? You around?" called Rossi.

"Wondered when you'd turn up," commented Todd as he emerged from the kitchen, handing Rossi a coffee with one hand and a paintbrush with the other. "Painting party?" he offered hopefully.

"I feel like I've been press-ganged," grumbled Rossi half-heartedly. "How did…"

Griffin stuck his head around the bathroom door, a splodge of pale blue paint on his cheek. "Boss said you'd probably want some company as she left," he said with a sympathetic smile. "Where's she going anyway?"

"Spa weekend I think," replied Rossi, taking a slurp from the coffee Todd had given him before looking for a pot of paint to use, resigned to helping the pair of them with their endeavours. It was a good job he'd put on an old shirt. "That's what it sounded like, anyway."

Griffin edged his way around the ladder blocking the hallway. "Really?" he asked dubiously. "Doesn't sound like her sort of thing. I mean…don't take this the wrong way, Rossi, but she's not exactly the most…girly sort of girl."

Todd nodded his agreement. "She's more dude than some of the dudes I know." He grinned. "And not just the dudes that are into other dudes, if you see what I'm sayin'."

Rossi just shrugged and with that second unnoticed hint that things weren't exactly as they seemed, set to work helping Todd and Griffin redecorating. It was quite satisfying actually, and within a few hours, Rossi had quite forgotten about his disappointment that Pip had gone off with her friends for the weekend.

With three of them working, by the time Pip arrived home on Sunday evening the bathroom was finished and the old tiling in the kitchen had been ripped out, the awful architraving in the hallway had been ceremonially burned and most of the holes in the living room plaster were filled and ready to paint. For once, Rossi actually felt like he _achieved_ something over the weekend, rather than just vegetate after another stressful week at work.

Pip seemed more settled when she returned, and Rossi could only assume two days of massages and jacuzzi time with some friends had been exactly what she needed; regardless of how he felt about her achieving that peace of mind without his help. It seemed that the ghosts of Chicago had been laid to rest somehow, and he was simply grateful for that.

Especially after Pip showed him just how much she'd missed him. He was pretty sure he'd blacked out for a second or two actually, and the aftershocks still made his toes curl about twenty minutes afterwards. He felt so reassured of her wellbeing that he barely acknowledged her decision to go over to Garcia's for a proper finale to her girly weekend. He was quite happy just to lounge on the sofa with a well-deserved beer.

The sense of ease and new beginnings lasted until Security phoned early the following morning as Rossi was ploughing through his emails. He turned away from the screen with a sigh, assuming the call meant another case.

"Rossi," he said wearily. The weekend had been great, but it seemed nothing changed in the BAU, lately, it felt like there was _always_ another case.

"Agent Rossi, you've got a visitor. He says he needs to speak to you but doesn't want to come up to your office. Could you come down?"

"Sure," Rossi replied absently. "I'll be right there." At least it didn't sound like they were off on another field trip, not yet anyway.

"I'm going out for a bit, I'll be on my cell if anyone needs me," he said to Pip as he passed AST on his way out. Griffin still had some paint on his face that no amount of scrubbing had shifted, and Pip had her nose buried in the morning newspaper. Phillips nodded when Pip didn't respond, Rossi just shrugged and continued on his way, another hint missed.

"Morning!" bellowed Perez cheerfully as Rossi approached the security desk. He looked far too chipper for first thing on a Monday, sporting a friendly grin and with a newspaper tucked casually under one arm. "Had a good weekend, did you?"

A little taken aback by the identity of his visitor, Rossi just nodded. "I did some redecorating with Pip's neighbours."

"Hmm." Perez cocked his head. "I wondered."

Before Rossi could work out quite what that meant, Perez was ushering him outside. "Come on, let's go and get a coffee," Perez suggested.

"Coffee" apparently meant a ride in Perez's chauffeured car, which was waiting just by the doors.

"You're not supposed to park here, you know," commented Rossi as they climbed in.

Perez just smirked. "Privileges of rank," he said loftily. "Has to be _something_ to compensate for the paperwork," he added ruefully. He leaned forward to mutter something to his driver, who nodded briskly and the car pulled away.

Twenty minutes later, Rossi was starting to get a little concerned. "Where are we going?" he asked, watching the commercial areas vanish into the distance. If they were going for coffee, apparently they were going towards the marine base for it.

"Trust me, it'll be worth it," replied Perez evasively, and would say nothing more on the matter.

Eventually, the car stopped in front of an unassuming house on an unassuming road not too far from the base. All the houses looked the same. "If a man's home is his castle, then this is my humble castle," said Perez with a smile.

Rossi took a look up and down the street. "I thought you'd live somewhere…"

"Grander?" supplied Perez. He shook his head. "I need to know how ground-level troops think, so I live with them in base housing, just like they do. How better to know the men under one's command, if not to run into them at three in the morning making an emergency stop for milk?"

"None of these men are under your command, General," disputed Rossi.

Perez flapped a dismissive hand. "Several layers of administration and creative misunderstanding lie between they and I, it's true, but they are the ones carrying out my orders, one way or another. I like to know how that feels for them, otherwise I could misjudge what they're capable of. It's too easy for men, or women, in my position to forget how the rank and file see things." He reached for the door handle. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

His driver jumped from the car to open the door for him before Perez had a chance to do it himself. Perez shook his head. "I've told you about this, Collins, I don't need you to wait on me. I'm perfectly capable of climbing from this ridiculously expensive car without your help." He grabbed the bag Collins had retrieved from the trunk. "And I don't need you to carry my bags for me, either. I may be old, but I'm not _that_ old. Stay here and wait for us, we shouldn't be too long."

Collins grinned. "Yessir. I'll just listen to the radio for a bit then, shall I?" He slouched back into the driver's seat and flicked the radio on.

"You've got an exam in three days," said Perez disapprovingly.

Collins straightened in his seat, turned the radio off and retrieved a text book from the passenger seat. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he apologised.

Perez chuckled. "You'll pass with flying colours, we both know that, then you can be off doing something far more worthwhile that driving my sorry fat ass around all day. Put your feet up, man. Read one of those daft comic books I know you've got stashed in the door pocket. That's an order."

"Graphic novels, sir," chided Collins gently, already reaching for his comic. He and Perez grinned at each other.

"Oh, I'm going to miss him when he's gone," complained Perez as Rossi followed him up the driveway. "Collins has been my driver for nearly two years now. Good lad, with a decent sense of humour, an essential in my opinion, considering how much time we spend together. Bright, with lots of promise, although he has an unfortunate weakness for fish tacos." Perez grimaced in distaste. "The smell lingers in the upholstery for _days_."

Rossi laughed, just as the front door opened. "Brace yourself," Perez muttered, before striding the last two steps to the threshold, holding out his arms in invitation. "Maria, my darling! It's good to see you."

"Two days!" shrieked the short brunette holding the door open. "You swan off with no explanation, in the middle of breakfast with my sister, who now thinks you are avoiding her, and turn up without a word of warning _two days_ _later!_ With a _stranger_." She looked Rossi up and down before glancing back at Perez. "Are you going to tell me who he is, or should I guess, much like I have to guess where the _hell_ you've been all weekend?" she asked acidly.

Rossi held out a hand to shake. "I'm David Rossi…"

Maria ignored the offered hand. "Yes, I'm sure you are," she replied, glancing from his hand to his face, then back to her husband. "Who is he?"

"Friend of Russet's," murmured Perez. "I would have introduced him if I'd been allowed to," he added with a smile.

There was one of those non-verbal conversations that only besotted couples can have, then Maria pulled Perez down for a kiss so passionate Rossi averted his eyes, somewhat embarrassed. Having put a thoroughly smug and loved-up expression on her husband's face, Maria turned her attention to Rossi. Because he had been trying not to intrude on their private moment, he was completely unprepared when she grabbed him around the neck. For one dreadful second Rossi thought she was going to kiss _him_ too, but he escaped with a peck on each cheek and an overly-familiar pat on the bum.

"Any friend of hers is a friend of ours," she murmured warmly in his ear. "Welcome."

She twined her hand with that of her husband. "There is a fresh pot of coffee made. Do you need some privacy?" she asked.

"Do you mind, my dear?" Perez brought her hand up to press a kiss to her palm.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't have asked, if I did," she said mockingly. She grabbed a lightweight coat and her handbag from the hallway table. "I'm borrowing Collins to take Mrs Jefferies to the park for a bit." It wasn't a question.

"I don't mind if he doesn't mind," replied Perez, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling in amusement.

Maria chuckled and stepped past them. "Wipe your feet!" she called sharply over her shoulder.

Rossi, whose foot still hung in mid-air about to step on the hardwood floor, stopped and obediently wiped his feet.

"Isn't she _glorious_?" breathed Perez happily, once the door was shut behind her. "Like a she-panther with her hackles up. Am I a lucky _hombre_ , or what?" He led the way down the hall to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was sending tantalising whiffs of caffeine through the air.

"That was…" Rossi breathed out. It had been intense. A bit like talking to Pip, although Pip didn't usually concentrate all the different extremes of her character into one short exchange. "…interesting."

His mind was turning things over, even as he tried to regain his composure. Perez had been out of town at the same time as Pip, and his wife's personality bore striking similarities to hers. Something cold lodged at the base of Rossi's stomach as his overly-active imagination filled in the gaps.

With coffee poured, Rossi followed Perez's lead and sat opposite the General at the kitchen table. He couldn't trust himself to say anything without it coming out as an accusation, so Rossi said nothing. He did manage a questioning gaze – it was a gentle nudge to get Perez talking, that's all. Not a pointed glare. Well…maybe a little.

"I know you heard what my wife said about me being away for two days, and I know what you're thinking," commented Perez. "Russet and I did _not_ spend the weekend together."

"I didn't…" Rossi stopped as Perez raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Alright, I wondered," he admitted, although he remained unconvinced that Perez's intentions were entirely honourable.

Perez nodded. "Of course you did. I can assure you we did not spend the weekend together, however our respective absences were not entirely unrelated." Perez reached for his newspaper. "Her trouble has always been her sense of justice," he noted cryptically. He met Rossi's eyes over the top of the paper as he flicked through the pages. "I always knew what she was, all the time she was supposed to be my principal aide. One does not get far in Military Intelligence without some knowledge of how these things work."

"I suppose not," agreed Rossi uneasily, still trying to work out where the conversation was going.

"She told you we once…" Perez shifted uncomfortably and lowered the newspaper for a moment. "She must have done, or you would not have assumed that was what we were doing this past weekend."

Rossi took a fortifying gulp of his coffee, wondering whether he ought to be saving some to throw at the General. Which would be a shame, because it was really good. He nodded. "Yes, she did, but only that you had."

Perez sighed and put the paper down. "I'm rather older than she and should have known better. I was a younger man then, and I made a young man's mistake. She was upset and lonely and had no one else to turn to. It was a dreadfully irresponsible thing to do." He took a sip of his coffee. "There was a…a target, the last one before she was to leave her position in my office and go out on her own. It went badly." He waved a negligent hand. "It was chance, one wrong move at the wrong time by an innocent who had no idea what was about to happen. That was all. So it goes. But instead of a quiet shot to remove a dangerous man, half a shanty town burned, killing dozens of bystanders. She blamed herself for every last casualty and when she turned to me for comfort, I let myself get carried away."

Another example of Pip using sex as an escape mechanism. Rossi wondered if that had been the first time, the trigger that had set that pattern. But that only part of it. He narrowed his eyes. "Your mistake wasn't sleeping with her, it was falling in love with her, wasn't it?" he accused.

Perez barked rueful laughter and nodded. "Oh yes, but that had happened long before the incident I just mentioned. Four years working so closely together, it was inevitable."

Rossi blinked, surprised. "You never told her."

"No," said Perez airily. "I was a married man who missed his wife, and bearing the heartbreak when Russet left me was penance for breaking my wedding vows."

Rossi analysed that. It wasn't that Maria was like Pip, it was more that Pip was like Maria. Perez had seen something of his highly volatile wife in Pip and things had developed from there.

"Her Passing Out Parade was her simply walking out of my bunkroom with her backpack over one shoulder and Angel over the other, still with the mark of my teeth upon her breast from what we'd done previous evening," Perez continued. "I never told her how I felt, and I never will." He fixed Rossi with a heavy gaze. "The way she looks when she talks about you...I will not jeopardise that. There was a time when I foolishly wished she would look at me that way, but now I am just glad she has found someone worthy of her regard." He busied himself with the newspaper once more.

Rossi eased back in his seat, feeling a little more convinced that Pip and her pet General had not made a fool of him.

Perez grunted, having apparently found what it was he was looking for in the newspaper, and prevaricated by folding it fussily. "I kept an eye on her, as much as I could, but I never meant for her to get tangled up with Sergei Rostov."

Rossi choked and coughed as his coffee went down the wrong way. "Rostov?"

Perez nodded. "We've been trying to bring down the Rostov empire since it was run by his grandfather. Sergei is a dinosaur, a man out of his time. He runs things just the same as they always have been, like his father and grandfather, and an unknown number of grandfathers before. No technology, no cell phones, no emails, no electronic tracking. Everything is done by hard copy passed between trusted people or by word of mouth. Impossible to infiltrate, and believe me, we've lost some good people over the years trying."

"What does that have to do with Pip?" asked Rossi impatiently. As interesting as a little more background on Rostov was, he couldn't see the connection.

Perez shook his head. "Be patient. You will have to allow me to circle the point a little before leaping in," he demurred. "We've known for a while that when Sergei died or retired, his grandson Mikhail would step into his shoes, because Sergei's son Arkady and his two top lieutenants were among those killed in the same incident that nearly killed Russet. That shooting was a shock, the result of a horrible convergence of events, not least the fact that there was a leak in my own operation as well as the task force. I never did find out who it was."

Rossi's eyes widened. Obviously he knew about Hollis, but it seemed there was an additional player, someone else to blame for Pip's shooting.

"It worked in our favour, in a roundabout fashion," continued Perez. "Better Mikhail in charge than Arkady or one of Sergei's lieutenants, all of whom were of the same mould as Sergei and his predecessors." Perez shot Rossi a look that spoke of his genuine relief, despite the circumstances. "Die-hard lunatics, the lot of them."

Perez paused for a draught of his coffee. "Mikhail has a friend, a computer genius," he continued. "One of ours, sort of. He has been guiding Mikhail since they met at college years ago, showing him the wonders of cyberspace and what the dark web could do for the business. When Mikhail drags the Rostov family into the 21st century, we will be there, right alongside him. No need for expensive wiretaps that can be traced, or electronic monitoring that can be detected. We will simply always have had access, from the beginning. Built into their very hardware by our man on the inside. They will never know we are listening and with luck and a little time, we can cripple international arms sales the world over."

"Brilliant," breathed Rossi. It was a rather well thought out, if convoluted plan.

Perez nodded a little smugly. "Thank you." He tipped his coffee in Rossi's direction in salute, then dropped the newspaper, folded to highlight a small article hidden near the centrefold, onto the table between them. "I buried it on page 24, down the bottom where no one bothers to read."

Rossi scanned the article, aware that his pulse was rising.

 _Chicago gang leader dead in Virginia apartment…Russian national Sergei Rostov…apparent suicide…Police not currently looking for anyone in connection with the death._

Rossi scrubbed his face with one hand, re-reading the short piece more carefully. "It wasn't suicide, was it? She did this."

Perez nodded. "Like I said, she was never supposed to be involved, but then she was, and I could do nothing about it. The task force set up in Chicago was my idea. It was supposed to be a diversion, a legitimate operation to keep his eyes looking in the wrong direction, and if it mopped up a few bad eggs along the way, so much the better." He shook his head regretfully. "I did not conceive that her team would end up being drafted into it. I couldn't have stopped it," he added with a shrug, "and I didn't try because that little group of agents were highly successful."

"You thought they might actually get you something useful."

"Yes," agreed Perez simply, "and because it would have looked odd if I'd tried. Not that my objections would have mattered in the slightest if I'd voiced them, I've never had any luck telling her not to do something she wants to."

Rossi nodded with rueful understanding and they both chuckled a little, knowing Pip as they both did. "So she found out where he was and went after him," he mused. "Someone called her early Saturday morning, invited her out for the weekend."

Perez nodded. "That coincides with my knowledge. I've had people watching Rostov since he re-entered the US, people in various roles from military to state and federal law enforcement. It seems I have another leak in my operation." He waved a hand. "It is not an unusual or particularly surprising occurrence, and sometimes we use that to our advantage to spread disinformation, but I wasn't aware until too late that I had someone talking to Russet without me knowing. She has connections in places I hadn't appreciated."

"You and me both," murmured Rossi ruefully.

"Early Saturday afternoon, I got a call that there was someone who wasn't one of ours watching Rostov's new location in Virginia. It didn't take long to work out who it was."

"You must have known what she was going to do," said Rossi, his temper rising.

"Yes," replied Perez gently. "I knew what she was going to do, but that didn't take any great leaps of deduction. Vengeance for Collingwood and all the others Rostov has had killed is something that has been on her mind for a long time. I'm sure she counts Daniel Cho as another of his victims, regardless of Cho's reprehensible actions."

"How do you know about that?" asked Rossi. "We only flew home on Friday."

Perez shrugged. "There's an FBI undercover agent that was targeted as part of what Cho was doing. He was monitoring Cho's actions and reported to my operation, in addition to his Bureau superiors. We hid him once Cho took aim in his direction, but he is back in place now and the flow of information has resumed."

"You knew what Cho was up to," said Rossi flatly. "You could have stopped him."

"We could have," agreed Perez, "but he was more useful to me doing what he was doing. All the time he was a one-man rogue operation, Rostov wasn't looking at us." Perez peered at him. "You don't approve."

Rossi grimaced. "Seems unjust, letting him get away with so much for so long, just so you had your in with Rostov."

"I play for the long game, Agent Rossi. None of the people he killed were innocents, until Henderson, that is. Much as I hate the phrase, "for the greater good", it seems to apply well in this case. Cho was just another pawn on our board, moving us one step closer to checkmating Sergei with every day that passed."

"And you let Pip make the final move," said Rossi wearily. Suddenly he felt exhausted, worn out by the intrigue.

Perez nodded. "Then I tidied up after her. Ballistics analysis will prove the wound was self-inflicted, fired from the weapon found on the body and covered in his fingerprints. Medical reports have been fabricated to indicate that he was suffering from stage 4 lung cancer, unsurprising for a man who smoked fifty a day for more than forty years, and the autopsy paperwork will confirm that. It took me all day yesterday to arrange it, but all trace of her involvement has been removed and the Rostovs will be none the wiser. Other than being a little shocked that their supreme leader was dying and didn't tell anyone."

"Why?" asked Rossi. "Why would you do that for her?"

Perez shook his head. "Not for her. I am a pragmatist. Sergei's death works in my favour, so I authorised the operation. No one but you and I and my chief of staff will ever know that clearance for his termination came through around dawn on Sunday morning." Perez paused for effect. "Three hours _after_ he stopped breathing. His official time of death has been adjusted accordingly."

"You _used_ her," accused Rossi. "With all the deaths already weighing so heavily on her conscience, why would you let her add one more?"

Perez drained his coffee. "If I'd stopped her, Russet would only have found another way, probably one more dangerous, where she didn't have my people watching her back. At least this way we both got what we wanted." He waved a dismissive hand and stood to pour himself a refill. "Sergei was going to die soon anyway." He pointed to Rossi's empty coffee cup. "You want another?"

Rossi nodded, feeling the need for more caffeine in order to keep up. Perez snagged his cup and busied himself fixing their coffees. "If the cancer is something you manufactured, why was Rostov going to die?" asked Rossi, while Perez's back was turned.

"Mikhail is a young man with big ideas and has been growing increasingly impatient with his grandfather's way of doing things," said Perez over his shoulder. "If he didn't have Sergei killed in the next month or so, then we were going to take care of it for him. I do not doubt that information was passed on when Russet was informed of his location. She only accelerated my timeline by three weeks or so. Perhaps less."

"She didn't know it was authorised. She committed murder," disputed Rossi. Of all the things he'd learned that morning, that was the one that still disturbed him. That Pip would do something like that. Although…she had already told him of two others, men she had butchered while overseas. Was Rostov all that much different?

"It is her sense of justice," replied Perez, repeating his earlier comment as he sat back down, placing Rossi's coffee in front of him. "And a product of her former career. Operatives such as she was aren't given specific orders very often. They are given _objectives_ , and leave to achieve them in more or less whatever manner they see fit." Perez studied Rossi over the rim of his cup, the intense gaze similar to the ones Pip would give him if she thought he was being dense about something.

"The best judge of that is the person on the ground," continued Perez, "not some desk-driver such as myself who polishes a chair with their ass for a living, someone who's been _out_ of the field longer than they were in it." Perez shot him a self-deprecating smile. "Which is why I live on base, unlike others of my rank. I have a better understanding of her and others like her because of that, and I believe it makes a difference. She is used to carrying out actions such as she took Saturday night without formal approval, safe in the knowledge that if she felt it was necessary, someone somewhere would authorise it, even after the fact. The outcome justifies the means and the arrangement provides the government plausible deniability."

Rossi let out a deep sigh. "I still have trouble with that."

"Most people would," said Perez easily, "but I am not most people, and neither, I think, are you. Once you've had time to think about it, at least," he added. "Let me give you an example. In the late nineties, there was a particular man in Poland, the chief of the secret police. He took a bullet to the head as he parked his car. There was an investigation of course, and even a man who confessed at one point, but it was Russet who pulled the trigger. Three weeks after he was removed, all sorts of things started to emerge about the things he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed. There was no doubt he deserved death, and the international community breathed a little easier with him gone. Her action was sanctioned, retrospectively."

"This was different," disputed Rossi. "It was personal."

"Yes, it was," agreed Perez. "Which is why I allowed it. Of the myriad of things we have talked about, Russet and I over the last few months, the difference between justice and vengeance has been a common theme. I will say no more than that, considering the nature of those discussions, but…" He sighed tiredly, suddenly looking his age. "I wanted her to have a chance to see that while the two things are different, sometimes it's possible to have both at once."

"How? If she doesn't know all you've told me…" Rossi trailed off as understanding finally dawned. "No. If you want her to know, you're going to be the one to tell her. Leave me out of this."

"I can't," objected Perez. "You are intrinsically linked with her now. You were, even before the two of you were intimate. You know far more than you should, about many aspects of her life and her past. There is no way to separate that, you must have known that for yourself when she broke protocol to contact you the day she was recalled."

Rossi nodded uneasily. "It took a couple of days to sink in, but yes I did. I keep her secrets as she keeps other people's."

"Exactly," said Perez firmly. "Which is why…"

"But I _will not_ be a part of the explanation you owe her," interrupted Rossi, a little angry that a man Pip saw as a friend was trying weasel his way out of talking to her. He stood. "I think I'd like you to take me back to the Bureau now."

* * *

Perez tried to convince him again he they drove back, something that irritated Rossi no end.

"General, put yourself in my shoes," snapped Rossi as the car drew up at the doors to the Bureau. "For someone who says they do that with those under their command, you're blind to the position you've put me in. _You're_ the one who has been chasing Rostov for years, _you're_ the one who let her take the shot. I refuse to be involved. Telling me before you've spoken to Pip is underhanded and dishonourable by making me lie by omission to her with every minute that passes. You have to be the one to tell her. Although I will patch you up afterwards if necessary," he added.

Perez sighed. "I did not think you would agree, but an old man has to try. I will admit I am a little wary of her reaction when she finds out my involvement with Rostov."

Rossi smirked. "Do you still fit into your body armour, General?"

It was worth it for the sudden widening of Perez's eyes and Rossi felt a savage burst of satisfaction at his discomfiture.


	21. Consequences Part 2

_A/N: Before we continue, just wanted to note that (later than planned) there's another chapter of Missing Conversations up. Should be read between Misdirected Vengeance Part 1 and 2._

* * *

 _Consequences Part 2_

 _ **First comes smiles, then lies. Last is gunfire – Stephen King**_

Rossi leaned against the car hood with Collins.

"Are you sure about this?" the younger man asked, sounding slightly worried. "I'm supposed to be his protection detail, not just a glorified cab driver. I get nervous when I can't see what he's doing." He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if suppressing the urge to barge in and disrupt what Rossi was sure was a rather tense conversation.

Rossi sighed, glancing at his closed front door. "It has to be done, and she won't cause any life-altering injuries. I can't promise she won't try and thump him, but I think he deserves that."

Collins settled unhappily back against the car next to him. "Why here? Why your house instead of somewhere neutral? And why are we out front, rather than in the back where I could see into your living room?"

Rossi studied the man next to him. Collins wasn't looking around at his surroundings, focussed intently on the kitchen window, where occasional glimpses of wildly gesticulating arms could be seen. "You've been here before," accused Rossi.

Collins shook his head without breaking eye contact with Rossi's window. "No, but once Harker made contact with the General, I looked up everyone connected to her. The plans for your house were on my desk before we flew to New York. Nothing personal you understand, just doing my job."

Rossi huffed in annoyance. "Nice to know the privacy laws are being upheld so strenuously," he sniped. "I suppose you're going to tell me what I had for breakfast too."

"Coffee and a cream cheese bagel," replied Collins smartly, before catching Rossi's eye and grinning. "You've got a smudge of it on your jacket, and all marines, past or present, live on caffeine."

Rossi peered down at the mark on his lapel and allowed himself a rueful smile, glad for a distraction from wondering how it was going in his living room. He'd given Perez his address, although it sounded like he needn't have bothered; and whisked Pip out of the BAU with surprising ease, as if she'd been expecting something to happen. Rossi doubted she'd expected Perez to admit he was ultimately responsible for the op against Rostov, and he was anticipating an overblown explosion of emotion. Either rage or despair, he wasn't sure yet. Pip would see the General's silence on the subject over the last few months as betrayal and that never sat well with her. They couldn't hear breaking china, so for the moment, the discussion hadn't progressed beyond raised voices.

He'd chosen his house for their little heart-to-heart for a reason. Rossi wanted Pip to have a home advantage, simple as that. Perez owed her an explanation and Rossi was happy to facilitate, but that wasn't going to stop him making it harder on the General.

The front door flew open, startling them both. Pip stormed down the steps, Perez in hot pursuit. The General had a livid handprint across one cheek.

"Russet, slow down!" he called. "We need to be smart about this."

Pip spun around to glare at Perez. Rossi couldn't see her expression, but he knew what it looked like from the way Perez shuddered to a halt. He'd been on the end of one of those glares himself and couldn't blame the General for his suddenly wary demeanour. That glare meant you were beyond the point where giving her chocolate would help, and it would be better not to just hand her a potential weapon; even if it was only confectionary. Rossi could testify to the pain of a well-aimed candy bar.

" _Smart?_ " she spat. "Like you've been smart enough these past years? You _knew_ you had a leak and you never took the time to find out who it was. At least Cho never gave up," she added disgustedly. "I'm going to find out who it was and I'm going to _end_ them for what they did." Pip jumped in Rossi's car and tore away in an impressive spray of gravel, enough to make both Rossi and Collins duck to avoid getting pelted with small stones.

"She had your keys?" murmured Collins.

Rossi dangled his car keys from his hand. "No," he said heavily, watching as his car sped off down the driveway without him. "I think I might need to get the ignition fixed." He sighed. "Can I get a lift back to the Bureau?"

* * *

By the time Rossi got back, his car had been parked neatly back in the garage with no indication of Pip's mad getaway other than the dangling ignition wires.

She was at her desk, working furiously. Griffin and Phillips had both edged their seats a little way away from their boss and Duffy had turned his to completely face the other direction. All three of them looked up as Rossi pushed open the door to the BAU and shook their heads. Rossi nodded. Pip was in no mood to talk to anyone and trying would only make things worse. Duffy and Griffin ducked back down to their work, but Phillips held Rossi's gaze. He nodded significantly towards Rossi's office.

Rossi shrugged and cocked his head in a gesture of agreement and invitation. He knew her team would turn to him for answers about her mood, and that their first and not entirely unreasonable assumption would be that he was the cause of it. It seemed Phillips had been designated as the first person to try and work out what was going on. He supposed he should be grateful – they would all leap to Pip's defence if they thought it necessary, but after seeing what Duffy looked like when pissed off, Rossi had no desire to face the Irishman if he thought Rossi was the cause of her upset.

"Sir, she's asking us to look at a lot of things we wouldn't normally touch," said Phillips uneasily, almost before Rossi's office door had shut behind them. "This all goes back to what happened to her in Chicago and we're working on something without knowing why." He perched himself against Rossi's filing cabinet, in Pip's favoured spot, so he could still watch the bullpen. And Pip, who was shooting occasional glares in the general direction of Rossi's office. "I don't like it."

"Don't call me sir, Phillips. Not in these circumstances." Rossi sat down with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He hadn't expected her team to know so much about the events in Chicago, either historically or recently, but it appeared Pip had surprised him once again. "How much do you know about what happened?" he asked. He had to know how much information they had before deciding how much more to give them.

"She lost her team and her boyfriend. There was a leak and it got people killed. Going back dredged up a lot of bad memories. I know she's not thinking clearly because she called me Steve earlier. Somehow there's a link with the Pentagon and she is having us make some odd enquiries." Phillips listed his points off concisely, counting them out on his fingers. "She's distracted, she's drinking her coffee out of the vase she normally keeps pencils in, and she's only had two this morning." He snorted a little. "Her blood is normally 90% caffeine, I doubt today is going to be pleasant."

Phillips let out a long-suffering sigh. "I was a cop, I know what she's doing, but the other two are just blindly following orders. This isn't something we should be involved in," he added uncomfortably, "we're supposed to be your support, not an extra investigative team."

"And yet, here we are," said Rossi, running a hand through his hair. How much to say? He knew things about Pip that she wouldn't want others to hear, how was he supposed to make the distinction between privacy and protecting her? That Pip had called Phillips "Steve" was worrying – Steve Baker had been her best friend and the first one killed in the shootout. If Pip was regressing, or suffering some form of flashbacks, there was no knowing what she could do.

Phillips let him have a moment to think, keen brown eyes never leaving his face. "There's something more to this isn't there?" he asked shrewdly when Rossi took too long to respond. "Something she doesn't want us to know."

"You could say that," agreed Rossi warily, thinking of the abridged news report in that morning's paper, "although truth be told, I don't think she even wanted me to know."

That startled Phillips, something that made Rossi stop and think. He couldn't share the events of that morning, nor her involvement in Rostov's death. Too many tongues wagging with that information could eventually get it back to the wrong people and all Perez's efforts would be for nought.

"Hollis was one leak," Rossi said bluntly, shoving Phillips' untimely insight to one side. "There was another, higher up. Unknown to Pip until this morning, DoD were looking into the same crew she was investigating, and they had information control problems too. She has taken that news hard and personally, for obvious reasons, and has vowed to find out who it was." He didn't mention that Pip had vowed to exact her revenge on whoever that might be, but the knowing look on Phillips' face told him that he didn't need to. Everyone knew Pip could be scary when she wanted to be, and Phillips no doubt assumed she intended to give their mole a piece of her mind, Pip-style, once they were caught.

Phillips leaned his head back against the cabinet and let out a deep breath in a low whistle. "No wonder she's in such a bitch of a mood."

Rossi cleared his throat to halt the huff of laughter in its tracks, and Phillips rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I know. You quite enjoy it when she's all riled up don't you?"

Rossi looked away to hide the faint blush on his cheeks. He did rather enjoy it when Pip was in a temper, not least because he usually reaped the benefits once he got her into bed. Not to mention that she was incredibly sexy when she was in a full-on ferocious display. It was a little embarrassing that Phillips could read him well enough to know at least some of that. Dropping the formality of calling Rossi "sir" had made Phillips rather forward in his manner of speech, less respectful and more open. A change Rossi would normally have welcomed, if it hadn't been at the expense of the blood flushing his face.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Phillips.

The question surprised him. Rossi had assumed Phillips would follow Pip's lead. JP had thought the same, after the incident in the bar, but it seemed Phillips wasn't quite so blind in his loyalty.

"I don't know," he admitted, deciding that if Phillips wasn't just going to do what he was told, he could afford to be honest with the man. About that much, at least. He had no idea what to do. "It's not like anyone plans for this kind of situation."

"I won't inform on her, or get in her way, or do anything to jeopardise my position with her," noted Phillips. "She's my boss and my loyalty is to her, first and foremost. But that also means I'll look out for her where I can, and if that means being a bit sneaky, I can do that."

Rossi nodded. He had expected a lot less, and having someone else keeping an eye on her was reassuring.

* * *

Rossi didn't even bother going home that evening, knowing that Pip would have no desire to revisit the scene of her confrontation with Perez. He drove straight to her house instead. He had to wait for a friend in the motor pool to patch his ignition back together, which meant Pip had a good hour start on him.

Todd was on the first-floor landing as Rossi trudged up the stairs to Pip's apartment. "Tread lightly, man, know what I mean?" he said as Rossi passed. "She bit my head off earlier."

Rossi nodded absently and kept climbing, mind focussed on what he might find when he opened her door. Pip hadn't spoken to him all day, preferring to use Phillips as a go-between, and had left the office that afternoon without so much as a backward glance in his direction.

Pip was in the shower, so Rossi poured himself a glass of wine and rummaged in her cupboards for something to eat. It was easy and automatic by then, he was as at home cooking in her kitchen as he was his own, despite the disparity in size.

"Why are you here?" asked Pip abruptly from the doorway, just as Rossi was dishing up.

"Figured you'd only binge on bacon or junk food if I didn't make something for you," he replied easily, having decided that ignoring her actions over the weekend was the best way to start. Perez had been right. Once he'd had time to think, Rossi could see the logic, albeit twisted, that had led her to do what she'd done. The death of Rostov had served many purposes, one way or another, and some form of justice had been served. None of it had changed how he felt about her, and he planned to make sure she knew that. "You going to eat, or what?"

Pip ignored his gesture to the plates and wineglasses he'd set out at the breakfast counter and remained in the kitchen doorway, studying him. Rossi shrugged and sat down to eat. He was hungry, even if she wasn't. Between his meeting with Perez and the subsequent one between Pip and Perez, the only thing he'd eaten since breakfast was a half a dodgy sandwich from the canteen vending machine.

"I mean why are you _still_ here? With me," clarified Pip, as if he was being thick. "Why haven't you run a fucking mile? You know what I did, I know you do."

Rossi nodded as he chewed. "Yes, I do," he said simply once he'd swallowed. "Makes no difference to me." He pointed to her untouched plate with his fork. "Sit. Eat. You haven't eaten all day, it's not good for you." His took a sip of his wine, as if supremely unconcerned by her behaviour.

Pip hunched herself onto the other stool, and started to toy with her food, shooting uncertain sideways looks at him as he ate. Rossi pretended he didn't notice, directing his attention instead to the plate in front of him. Eventually Pip relaxed enough to actually eat, rather than just move things around. Rossi breathed a little easier.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" queried Pip as they got ready for bed. It had been a quiet evening, Rossi choosing to read a book while Pip played on her games console. Rossi had let her isolate herself, but the fact that she'd chosen a game where the aim was to beat the ever-living shit out of someone hadn't gone unnoticed.

Rossi lounged back on the bed and nudged his pillow into a more comfortable position under his head. "Nope. Figured you'll tell me when you're ready." He turned off the bedside light on his side and lay there with his eyes closed, listening. He could tell Pip didn't really believe him, that she was waiting for his disapproval and condemnation. Neither would change what she'd done, so Rossi had made a conscious choice not to entertain either. Pip needed his support and pushing her away would only make things worse. She was enough of a loose cannon already without him adding to it.

Pip shuffled in beside him and Rossi turned over, repeating an action that by then was habit - moulding himself against her back and draping an arm around her waist. "Mmm. You smell nice," he murmured as he nuzzled into her neck. "Goodnight _bella_."

Then he waited.

"I had to," she whispered, just as Rossi had given up hoping and resigned himself to sleep.

"I know."

Pip sat up abruptly and turned the light back on. "Why are you so fucking accepting? Why aren't you telling me it was stupid, and impulsive, and dangerous and…"

Rossi sat up and silenced her with a kiss. "Because it's done now, and nothing I say will change that," he said once they parted. It had been all of those things, but pointing that out would achieve nothing. "I'm a little disappointed you didn't tell me the truth from the beginning, I'd rather have heard it from you than Perez, but I understand why." He kissed her softly, briefly, once more. "You think I would have stopped you." He shrugged. "I might have tried, but you and I both know it wouldn't have worked. I'd have probably ended up coming with you."

"Why?" she breathed, uncertainty flaring in her face.

"Because I love you, stupid woman," retorted Rossi with a smile. When he kissed her again, he didn't relent, continuing his onslaught until she was moaning, overwhelmed with sensation. Finally, he pulled her body underneath his to finish making his point, showing her just how much he still loved her. Thoroughly, and with great attention to detail.

* * *

Perez was waiting at the security desk again when Rossi arrived back at the Bureau the following morning. "We have a problem," he said quietly.

Rossi bit back the groan. Like he needed more to deal with. "Now what?" he asked, none too gently, and gestured for the guard to allow Perez through. He roughly thrust a visitor badge in the General's direction and started walking in the direction of the elevator. He had no intention of going for another little drive with Perez, no matter what the reason for his appearance at the Bureau for the second day in a row.

Perez caught up with him easily and blocked Rossi's path with his considerable bulk. "Her questions got someone killed."

Rossi stopped. It was that or walk into the solid figure of Perez, but shock had also halted his movements. He looked up at the General, who was several inches taller than he and a fair few wider, and studied his face. Perez looked more than a little scared and Rossi yielded. "My office then, come on."

"Where was she last night?" asked Perez urgently, once Rossi's office door was closed. It was early enough that only Pip and Morgan had seen them arrive, and Pip had played the curious on-looker well in front of Morgan. He would be none the wiser that Pip and Perez had known each other for years.

"Shut up." Rossi threw Perez a disgusted look before taking his time unpacking his briefcase and hunting for an extra mug for coffee. Three weeks previously, Pip had bought him a small coffee machine for his office to save drinking the crap in the break room. "I know there's another mug around here somewhere," he muttered to himself, shifting piles of files and forms from one place to another in an effort to locate it. "Ah! Here it is," said Rossi triumphantly. "Black with two, right?"

Perez nodded dumbly, probably a little surprised that Rossi cared how he took his coffee after barking at him. "Rossi…"

"Stow it," snarled Rossi angrily. "I'm going to forget what you just said to me, on the basis that you should know better than to even ask. I'm putting it down to caffeine deficiency-induced madness. Repeat that question and I'll turn you over to her and lock the door behind me. I'll bury what's left."

Perez nodded and kept his mouth shut, wisely in Rossi's opinion. They sat silently until the promising scent of coffee filled the air.

"What happened?" asked Rossi, once they both had a steaming mug in front of them. "I'm assuming there's a link between yesterday's events and what you came to talk to me about, or do you throw accusations like that for fun?"

Perez had the good sense not to rise to Rossi's bait. "A high-level DoD analyst was found dead this morning. He didn't show for his shift at 0400 and given the nature of his work, a security team was dispatched to his apartment to check on him. This is what they found." Perez produced a handful of photographs from his inside pocket.

Rossi took the pictures, and only his years of experience and iron control over his stomach let him look at them without losing his breakfast. The man had been tortured, that much was clear – all the cuts had been designed to cause maximum pain without leading to death. What concerned him most however, was the single gunshot to the head. "He broke."

Perez nodded. "Eventually. There's no way of knowing who or why from his apartment, believe me, we've spent the last four hours combing the place. He wasn't trained for this kind of thing, I think he did well to hold out as long as he did, but in the end, he told them what they wanted to know. He got a mercy shot to the head for his trouble."

Rossi raised his gaze from the pictures to briefly glance at Pip in the bullpen. She looked like she was working, but he knew her well enough to see that she was watching his office intently. Rossi twitched his fingers in one of the AST hand gestures he knew: "later" he told her, knowing Perez wouldn't pick it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pip nod. "Confirmed" she responded, exaggerating the movement to make it an order rather than acknowledgment.

"You thought she was capable of this?" spat Rossi, his hardened expression boring into Perez. He thought Perez had known her better than that. "Either there's something you're not telling me or you're stupider than you look."

"Maybe a little of both," admitted Perez. "I know how dangerous she can be, even if you will not admit that to yourself. She is more than capable, but I trust you that she didn't."

Rossi snorted ungraciously. "Back to him," he said, indicating the photos on his desk, "why bring it to me? Or did you just want my assurance that Pip never left her apartment last night?"

"No. Actually I came to officially ask for the BAU's help to find the killer. The, ah, _UnSub_ , I believe you call them," replied Perez quietly. "You would have ended up investigating unofficially anyway, given her involvement, but I have clearance to formally invite you in, citing national security concerns. This man had access to many things best left in the dark," he added, pointing to the man in the pictures, "and we need to find his killer or killers quickly before any of that information gets into the open."

"What kind of information?" asked Rossi warily, his mind already turning over the particulars. Anger, but directed. Probably a single UnSub, one with an agenda of some sort, who'd been after specific information. The man had been given a painless death once that objective had been achieved, ruling out a sadist; the torture had been a means to an end, not for sport or enjoyment. Probably a thirty- to forty-five-year-old male, but there was nothing to categorically rule out a female UnSub. The apartment didn't seem to have been tossed, so the information had been either relayed verbally, or was off-site somewhere. Care had been taken to prevent any sound escaping the room, so their UnSub was above average intelligence, with enough planning skills to bring everything they needed with them, including a means to prevent the victim screaming.

"Off the record?" Perez prevaricated.

"If it has to be," agreed Rossi impatiently.

"Names and locations of certain operatives around the world, current objectives of same, details about past operations in the same regions or with similar objectives. Analysis of their effectiveness, their impact and where such operatives go and what they do once leaving the service." Perez fixed Rossi with a flat stare. "He had access to all the details of what Russet was, where she was, what she did, and where she's been since." He grimaced. "And who she's been associating with. Which undoubtedly includes both of _us_. After yesterday and her threat to dig until she found something, I can only assume she asked either the wrong question or the wrong person. Or both. The coincidence is too great to ignore."

"I agree. Well General, I guess we better brief my team."

* * *

Rossi set Pip making files without telling her of the links to her own investigation, and gathered the team in the conference room to explain, as far as he could, what they were dealing with. Whenever he got too close to what Perez wanted kept quiet, or a pointed question from one of the team did the same, the General would chime in with "classified" and defied all their attempts to wheedle more information out of him.

"This is bullshit, Rossi!" barked Morgan, once Perez had left. "He's given us a load of hints and no real information. How are we supposed to work like this? We could go off in completely the wrong direction because he didn't give us the whole picture. "National Security" my ass," he sneered. "It's his own ass he's worried about."

Rossi couldn't disagree, knowing what he knew, but sent Morgan to the crime scene anyway. Which meant he was left with JJ – his ace in the hole. Someone who knew more about Pip and what she'd been doing than perhaps the General realised.

JJ gave Rossi a secretive smile. "You wanted the Morgan out of the office, didn't you? Why do I get the feeling you kept me back deliberately?" She laughed a little at his slightly startled expression. "Dave, I'm a _mom_ ," she said. "We're all psychic to some degree. We have to be, otherwise Henry would have drunk bleach or drowned himself in the sink by now."

Rossi huffed, then chuckled with her. "Ok, ok, you caught me," he admitted. "I need you to reprise your previous role."

"Media Liaison? I don't mind but…"

"No," Rossi said slowly. "The one in between." He cast a pointed look into the bullpen. "Then one where you two talked. The one that might give me an idea which branch in the Pentagon Pip shook that made this happen."

"Rossi, you're going to have to give me more details."

She didn't deny the two had been in contact while Pip was overseas, so with a heavy heart, Rossi did exactly as she asked. He left out some things, but he could tell that not all of what he was saying was news to her. Including Pip's former association with Perez.

"…and she promised to find out who it was," he finished.

JJ sat looking at him with wide eyes for a moment before nodding. "Leave it with me."

Rossi sat in the conference room alone, with his head in his hands. He hoped Pip wouldn't take it the wrong way, him telling JJ so much. Only time would tell.

"How much later is "later"?" asked Pip from the doorway, startling Rossi from his thoughts.

"About this much later, I suppose." Rossi led the way back to his office. "I need you to stand down your investigation," he said, once they had some privacy. "A DoD analyst with information about you was murdered last night, probably in response to the questions you've been asking. Perez and I both think his mole from the Chicago op is responsible, and now it's a BAU case thanks to the bucket-load of classified intel that could be at risk. Perez invited us in. I need you to step aside so you don't end up in the files, either as evidence or as a suspect."

"No."

Well, he'd expected that. "Pip, this is important…"

"Fucking right it is!" Her eyes blazed with fury. "I will _not_ stop trying to find out who was responsible for it all going wrong!"

"You sound like Cho," murmured Rossi. "Did you know you called Phillips "Steve" yesterday?" That brought her up short, as he'd intended. "You didn't, did you?" he asked gently.

Pip shook her head mutely.

Rossi glanced into the bullpen to see who could be watching before wrapping his arms around her. "I'm worried about you, and I have an UnSub on the loose. I can't juggle both things at the same time, or I'll drop one. And I hope you know which one I'd choose to keep hold of." He gave her a squeeze to punctuate his point. "Don't you?" Pip nodded tentatively against him. "Good. Let me catch this asshole, and I promise you can have two minutes with him. Supervised," he added hastily, prompting a muffled snigger from her. "You'll stand down?"

Pip pulled away. "Alright." She gave him a twisted frown. "I'm trusting you with this."

Rossi nodded. He understood. He would get one chance, and one chance only to resolve it before she took matters into her own hands once more.

* * *

Rossi looked down at the file in front of him. "Too easy," he muttered.

"I know what you mean," agreed Morgan. "I figured this was going to be all smoke and mirrors, no one giving us straight answers. I've never met so many cooperative people on a case before."

"Seems to fit, and everything Garcia found…" JJ trailed off. "But it does feel too simple."

They'd found him. Or so it seemed. It had been remarkably straightforward, so much so that the three of them were sat in the conference room less than five hours later, trying to work out why. They had their motive, an electronic footprint the size of Texas and had been practically gifted the murder weapon.

"This just doesn't add up," stated Rossi firmly. "Or rather, it adds up too well. Do either of you actually believe this is our guy?" Morgan and JJ both shook their heads. "Me either. I think we're supposed to jump right into a knee-jerk Islamophobic response and go in guns blazing without asking for an explanation." Rossi stood. "I'm going to talk to him. I'll wire myself into comms in case I need back up, but I doubt it. The only thing in danger from this guy," he stabbed a finger irritably at the photograph in the file, "is a veggie burger. Morgan, get Garcia to double-check everything she found. Look for something that might point to the data being fabricated or altered in some way. JJ, I want you to look again for an alibi, and see if you can find something other than this man's religion that tells us why we were basically handed him on a plate."

Halfway down the ramp to the elevator, something caught Rossi's attention, and he veered off towards the AST. "Where's Pip?" he asked roughly, heart already pounding. No…she wouldn't, would she? She'd seen the same file he had, surely she didn't believe… "Where is she?" he demanded when none of them responded, looking at each other instead. Griffin and Duffy turned back to their work. Phillips gave Rossi a long look before fishing something out of her desk drawer, ignoring Griffin's warning hiss of disagreement.

Rossi recognised the .308 shell instantly and grabbed it from Phillips unresisting hand. It was empty. He threw it back and broke into a sprint towards the door. Pip was going after the wrong guy, and she didn't know it.

With Garcia's help, it took Rossi less than an hour to track down Faizal Mohammed, contentedly chewing his way through a vegan all-day breakfast in a non-descript café. His position near the back wall and the volume of customers around him had probably saved his life.

Rossi roughly grabbed the cutlery from the man's hands and flashed his badge in front of his face. "Mr Mohammed, Agent Rossi, FBI. I need you to come with me please. I have reason to believe your life is in danger."

Mohammed blinked and swallowed heavily. He stood to follow Rossi out the door, but Rossi blocked his way. "Through the back."

"You're serious, aren't you?" breathed Mohammed, paling rapidly. "I work at the Pentagon, but not with anything, you know, _interesting_. Shipping manifests, mostly. Some translation work for other teams if they're overloaded..."

"I can't explain right now," replied Rossi hurriedly. "Move, if you want to live."

He hustled the man through the kitchens and out into a back alley that ran parallel to the main street. A brick next to Rossi's head exploded in a spray of shards and he dragged Mohammed behind him, knowing the only way to protect him from Pip was to put himself between her target and a bullet.

"Move." Her voice over comms was cold, focussed.

"He's not your guy," objected Rossi, awkwardly toggling his mic while still holding his gun. "This man is innocent."

"Well, I did try pot in college," rambled Mohammed, stared dazedly at the hole in the brickwork where his head had been only moments before. "I didn't inhale, I promise." He was pale and shaking.

Rossi rolled his eyes. "Believe me, neither of us care," he said shortly. Mohammed had pissed himself in terror, he realised, the dark stain was quickly spreading on his pants. Deep in shock, the man hadn't even noticed.

"Move down the alleyway," commanded Pip. "I can't cover you _and_ get a shot at the asshole until we force him to relocate."

Rossi nearly fainted with relief and holstered his weapon to take a moment to wipe his face. Pip hadn't gone rogue. For a moment, a moment of brain-numbing horror, he'd been sure that she had. He took two steps forward, then jumped back in alarm as another shot impacted the ground by his feet.

"Other way, stupid." Pip sounded amused now.

"You could have taken my foot off!" cried Rossi indignantly.

"If I really wanted to shoot you, I wouldn't miss," replied Pip airily. "That first one though," she mused, " _that_ was him. He isn't very good, is he? By the way, you better get going, the bait's gone rabbit."

Rossi glanced behind him to see Mohammed running in the opposite direction. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered and started to run after him. "Mohammed, come back!" he called. "We're using him as bait?" he panted into his mic. "Who authorised that?"

"You tried to do it your way," commented Perez in his earpiece, "and it didn't work. Russet and I decided we'd deal with it together, just like we used to."

"Are we handing out FBI radios to anyone who asks these days?" grumbled Rossi. " _I'm_ supposed to be in charge!"

"Turn left," ordered Pip, and Rossi obeyed instantly, grabbing Mohammed's arm to swing him into the left turn as he did so.

Perez chuckled. "I think we both know who's in charge, Agent Rossi."

"Quiet." Both men stopped talking immediately. Rossi felt a shiver run down his spine. It was Pip as she had been Before, and he felt a flush of heat in his groin. There was no denying how unbelievably sexy that commanding tone was, especially knowing how she looked, cradling Angel in her arms. "I have the shot. Aphrodite requesting clearance."

Rossi pulled Mohammed to the ground with him as Perez's voice, now also cold and collected, echoed over the channel.

"Herald."

* * *

 _A/n: Another chapter of Missing Conversations is up and slots in midway through this chapter._


	22. Fires of Envy

_Fires of Envy_

 _ **There is no fire like passion, there is no shark like hatred, there is no snare like folly, there is no torrent like greed - Siddharta Gautama**_

Four days. Four days peace they had after the shooting of the DoD mole, before it all went a little crazy again. The aftermath had been remarkably anticlimactic, Perez scooping up all the unanswered questions they had and to their intense frustration, giving "it's classified," as his only answer. Pip had spent some time on the range with Morgan working out her frustrations, and had returned to something approaching normal, whatever that was for her, anyway.

Rossi had very nearly cleared his desk of the backlog of work, so he should have known it was too good to be true. At least Reid was back from his time out. Four agents on the team wasn't enough by any means, but it was better than three.

It started out innocuous enough, another case, local again, and a little odd. Two couples, both shot from long range. No obvious links between them stood out, the UnSub crossing both age and racial lines to apparently target these four people specifically. The only similarity was that their bank accounts were rather fatter than the average American's. They had the case for over twenty-four hours and found nothing. It was desperately frustrating.

Ballistics didn't offer them anything, .308 Winchester rounds were only the most popular on the planet and could be fired from a staggering variety of weapons. There was nothing unusual in the autopsy reports, and even the crime scenes were pristine. Morgan had theorised that the UnSub was shooting from his vehicle, preventing any trace being left at the scene, but that couldn't help them unless they found his car.

It was Garcia who turned up their first proper lead, and it wasn't the car. It a small distillery specialising in custom brews for special occasions, the single point of commonality between the victims. One couple had put down a deposit on a run of pear cider for their wedding reception, the other had visited to inquire about a batch of mead for their fiftieth anniversary.

"Only trouble is, this place has no, and I mean _no_ cyber presence at all. I can find tax returns and a phone listing, but I mean, who doesn't advertise online these days? These people, that's who." Garcia rolled her eyes and tutted at the sheer unbelievability of it. The pom-poms on her hair band danced and swayed with her every movement as she shook her head. "I'm sorry my fine crime-fighting friends, I've got you an address, but that's about it, other than the fact that the owner is Italian and doesn't speak a word of English. I'll dig up an employee list somehow and run backgrounds, but it's going to take me a while." Garcia tottered out, leaving the profilers looking at each other as they tried to figure out what their next move was.

"It's thin," said Morgan, running a hand across his chin. "Without all the usual info Garcia finds for us, we're going in blind."

"Well, we can't just march in with our badges out," remarked JJ. "This is our only lead. If our UnSub is watching the place, then it would just tip them off. We need to be a bit more subtle."

"What are you thinking?" asked Rossi.

"Play to what their business is," she replied firmly, adding, "custom orders for special events," in response to Reid's puzzled look. "Two of us stroll up like we want to put in order in."

"So, we need a rich Italian-speaker interested in alcohol. Glad I can be useful sometimes," said Rossi wryly. "What do you say, JJ? Fancy playing at being the future Mrs Rossi number four?"

"Are you kidding? I'd be no help, I can't speak a word of Italian," said JJ with a self-deprecating laugh. "I can barely order pizza."

"I speak Italian," piped up Reid. "Quite well, actually. I've been teaching myself Portuguese too."

"I'm flattered, kid, but I don't think of you that way," said Rossi with a grin, as the rest of the team laughed. "I'm good, but I doubt I could convince _anyone_ that I'd asked you to marry me."

"Or that he accepted," joked Morgan. "Can't you just teach JJ some basic phrases so you've long enough to look around?"

"Actually…" interjected Rossi as an idea occurred, one that could get him into trouble. At least he wouldn't have to _play_ at being in love. "I've got someone else in mind."

* * *

"Remind me again how I got roped into this?" asked Pip from the passenger seat, as they turned off the main road onto a bumpy dirt track.

"Your language skills," replied Rossi. He ran a hand up her leg. Pip had dug out a pair of combat-style pants for the outing, and they did wonderful things to her figure. "And because I am an expert negotiator."

Pip batted his hand away with a laugh. "Not on the job, Casanova. Later, you owe me for this." She held her left hand out in front of her. "And you never did explain satisfactorily why you have an engagement ring in my size, just sitting in your desk drawer. Not that it's my style at all, far too ostentatious."

"Funny story actually," replied Rossi, filing both those useful bits of information away for later. Now, he not only knew her size, but had a solid clue about what she _wouldn't_ like. He could probably throw out half his catalogues on that basis alone.

"There was nearly a fourth Mrs Rossi, and believe me, it was a narrow escape. I had a stalker, a crazy fan. She turned up everywhere: while I was grocery shopping, at baseball games, she even bought a dog so we'd meet while I was out walking Mudgie. I moved twice to get away from her because she'd sit outside my house all night." Rossi glanced across at Pip, who was valiantly suppressing her mirth at his misfortune. "This was before I bought the mansion, obviously."

"Obviously," echoed Pip, and very nearly managed to keep a straight face while doing so.

"One day, a delivery truck arrives with hundreds of gifts wrapped in wedding paper. I'm still arguing with the driver an hour later trying to make him take it all back, when the registry office calls to say that my waiting bride is in tears and if I was going to call off the wedding, I could have at least had the decency to tell her in person."

"What?" exclaimed Pip. "What the fuck?"

"That was pretty much my reaction, too," said Rossi with a laugh. "Turned out she'd cloned one of my credit cards, set herself up a wedding list at a high-end department store and then bought every single item on the list with my card. That included the wedding dress and engagement ring, in case you were wondering," he added, glancing across at Pip in the passenger seat. "Somehow, she got hold of a forged a marriage license and turned up at the registry office in full bridal regalia, apparently expecting me to be there."

He paused as Pip dissolved into hysterical laughter. "She was _still_ wearing it when I took her to court," he continued. "When judge found in my favour and suggested she spend some time in a psychiatric facility, she accused me of cheating on her and threw the ring at me as hard as she could. I kept it, and it's just become part of the junk I periodically move from place to place."

Pip was still grinning and snorting occasional sniggers of laughter they pulled up outside the distillery. It was a large sprawling compound, screened from the road by high walls and trees on all sides.

"Just a look around. That's all," said Rossi seriously, halting Pip's move to open the door with a hand on her arm. "Look, talk, go. We should be back in time for lunch. No drama."

Pip nodded. "Got it. You owe me at least another dinner out, with some room for serious making up afterwards, too."

Rossi grinned. With terms like that, it was tempting to involve her in cases more often.

"Pretty sort of place," he remarked once they'd climbed from the SUV. Rossi pulled his jacket over his weapon, having already hidden his badge in his pocket. Close to hand, but out of sight, for the time being, at least.

"If you say so," replied Pip dismissively, joining him in leaning casually against the hood for a moment as if to enjoy the view. "I'm a city girl, I get twitchy if I can't smell hydrocarbons and hotdogs."

Rossi laughed and draped an arm around her shoulders. He kept hold of her when she tried to shrug out of his grasp. "We're supposed to be engaged, _bella_ ," he whispered. "At least _try_ to look as if you're not actively attempting to get away."

"Force of habit while I'm at work," she admitted quietly, relaxing into his touch. "We both got careless in Chicago."

Rossi leaned down to kiss her. "I could get used to being able to do this on Bureau time," he rumbled in her ear, nipping gently. His hand slid down to cup her ass, so beautifully displayed in those glorious pants.

"Don't get any ideas," murmured Pip, arching into him. She squeaked as Rossi pulled her even closer and nuzzled at that sensitive point on her neck that he loved so much.

They were interrupted by the owner, a man whose impressive sideburns were only dwarfed by the size of his gut, which appeared to be barely held in check by the shirt tucked firmly into his pants. He coughed and shuffled his feet to announce his presence, allowing them time to disentangle themselves. He caught sight of the ring on Pip's finger and gave Rossi a knowing wink and an open smile.

Rossi introduced them as a newly-engaged couple looking for something different for the special day. Garcia hadn't been kidding, the owner barely managed to give them his name in broken English before resorting to his native tongue. Signor Bianchi was overjoyed that they spoke the language, and started chattering away happily in Italian, explaining that he usually had to ask his nephew to translate when customers made personal visits. Said nephew was currently collecting an order of blueberries for a special batch of blueberry wine and wouldn't be back for hours. Rossi and Pip followed Bianchi inside as he continued to talk, Rossi casually holding Pip's hand.

It was gloomy in the distillery, the ceiling too high for the lights suspended there to make much of an impact at ground level. Enormous steel vats loomed on each side of a wide central walkway, the sound of rushing liquid and the smell of fermenting alcohol filling the air.

"I've changed my mind," said Pip, looking around excitedly. Rossi grinned, she looked like a kid in a sweet shop. "I _love_ this smell," she cooed, taking a deep breath of it. She wandered away a few steps, talking to the owner, asking curiously about the contents of some of the vats they were passing.

As Pip and the rotund figure of Signor Bianchi got further away from him, the hairs on the back of Rossi's neck stood up. Initially he put it down to his over-awareness of her, much as JJ had accused him of in Alabama. The longer it went on, the more he was convinced that wasn't the case. They were being watched, he was sure of it.

"Signor, do you have many people working here?" asked Rossi casually, interrupting an in-depth discussion regarding a tricky rosehip liqueur Bianchi was trying to perfect. Rossi gestured to the size of the enterprise burbling happily away around them. "So much work is too much for one man, surely? They must be skilled from the glowing recommendation we had."

Bianchi practically self-combusted with pride at the praise, his face brightening with a huge smile. "It's an entirely family business," he boasted. "I work the vats with my brother, my son and my nephew, and my daughter runs the office since my wife passed, God rest her soul. Her boy is the only one here today. He's around somewhere, lazy thing. I trust him only to keep an eye on the temperature and pressure gauges, and to sweep up."

He bent down to pick up a discarded candy wrapper and flourished it at them. "And you can see how well he manages _that_." Bianchi shrugged, his chins wobbling in dismissive indignation as he tucked the wrapper into a pocket already under considerable strain. "Young people, huh, what can you do? He'd spend all his time hunting if he had his way."

Pip and Rossi exchanged a brief glance. A kid handy with weapons and not thought highly of, from the way his grandfather spoke about him. A kid perhaps with an axe to grind.

"Roberto! Stop skulking and show your face, boy!" bellowed Bianchi before Rossi could ask any more about the grandson.

There was a furtive scuffling and a skinny dark-haired youth emerged from one of the deeper shadows. "I am not a dog to come when called, grandfather."

Rossi took a wary step backwards. The tone of voice was all wrong and the boy had something in his hand, and he couldn't see what it was. Rossi's hand crept down to the weapon at his hip.

Bianchi showed no such fear. "Show some manners!" he barked, shaking off Pip's cautionary hand on his arm. "These people have come a long way to see our fine little empire."

" _Your_ empire, grandfather," said Roberto dismissively. He uttered a chilling little chuckle. "I tried to stifle business by having your customers killed, but I realised my mistake." There was a small metallic tinkle that was almost lost in Bianchi's cry of dismay. "I'm never going to get any part of it, so I've decided to take you and it with me."

"Dave!" yelled Pip, already moving to push Bianchi to the floor. "He's got a…"

"Hand grenade!" yelled Rossi. He turned to duck behind something, anything, just as it went off.

A piece of metal the size of a surfboard whickered past his head and embedded itself a foot deep in a wooden beam. Milliseconds later, something substantial clobbered him from behind and Rossi was pushed roughly to the floor.

* * *

The next thing he was aware of, was warmth. It was kind of nice, actually. A sort of all-encompassing warmth, like those last few cherished seconds in bed when the alarm had already gone off. Those seconds that were just pure enjoyment of the comfort, knowing that soon it would all be over.

Something pulled at his arm. Rossi grunted noncommittally in response. Just a little while longer.

"Come on, we gotta get out of here before the rest of them blow."

"Gimme five minutes," he mumbled. "Then I'll get up."

There was a laugh and the tug on his arm came again. "Not likely. On your feet, Marine. I've never left a man behind, I don't intend to start now."

Rossi opened his eyes, then rubbed them as they started to sting. Memory came rushing back and he sat up abruptly. Too abruptly, his neck muscles twanging in protest.

"Something hit me," said Rossi, massaging his sore neck.

Pip started to laugh. "Yeah. Him, I think," she managed. She pointed to the mangled corpse of Roberto, who from his behaviour, had been at least part of the answers they'd been trying to find. "Saves on the arrest paperwork I suppose. Bianchi is dead too."

"You sure?"

"He's missing everything from the pasta belly upwards, so yeah, pretty much."

Rossi peered up at her. "Are you alright?"

"I prefer drinking my alcohol rather than breathing it, but I'll try anything once," said Pip with a wide grin. "He blew one of the hard cider stills, I think the air is about twenty percent proof."

It was an exaggeration, but probably not by much. The scent of hot cider was practically smothering. That would explain why his eyes were stinging, although the smoke was getting thicker by the minute. Rossi held out a hand to ask for help to stand up. Pip hauled him to his feet, grabbing him when he hissed in pain.

"You ok?"

"Twisted my ankle I think," replied Rossi. He tentatively tried to stand on both feet again, leaning heavily on Pip when that didn't work. "No, I'm going to need your help."

"So, now I'm your walking stick?" grumbled Pip. "I'm having a word with the boss about my contract when we get back to the office, because I'm pretty sure "mobility aid" isn't mentioned."

"Get moving before we go up with the rest of this place," Rossi shot back with a smirk. "You can bitch about your job later."

"Always _so_ nice to be appreciated," said Pip sarcastically as they started making their way slowly back to where the door had been. "Oh. _That_ could be a problem."

The way out was completely blocked, both by fire and twisted steel. Flames were starting to lick around the wooden frame of the building and they could both see rising temperature gauges on the vats that had escaped the blast. They performed an awkward about face, hoping for an obvious alternative exit. There wasn't one.

"Keep moving and hope?" asked Pip. "Seems about our only option. Maybe we can get far enough away from that lot," she cocked a thumb over her shoulder at the now-hissing vats, "so that when they blow, we aren't part of the splatter pattern."

Rossi nodded and they set off, rather slowly.

"Can we stop for a second?" asked Pip a few minutes later. "I feel all light-headed."

Rossi barely had time to reach for a pipe to hang onto for support before Pip sagged down onto a nearby packing crate. She was really pale under the dirty smudges and Rossi hopped closer in concern.

"Pip? Did you hit your head?" He ran his hands through her hair, gently probing for a wound.

Pip tiredly brushed his hands away. "I'm fine, I'm just…"

Rossi grabbed her hand, streaked with blood. "Pip, you're bleeding."

"I am?"

He found the rip in her coat and the cut on her arm underneath. It was deep, but not life threatening. "You've lost some blood and you need stitches, but you'll survive," he reassured her. "You'll know all about it when the adrenaline wears off. Take off your coat."

Pip struggled out of her coat and Rossi tore a strip off the sleeve, making it easier by using the existing rip as a place to start. Makeshift bandage-come-tourniquet fashioned, he tied off the material in a half-decent attempt at a field dressing.

"I really liked that coat," said Pip disconsolately, holding up her ruined clothing.

"I'll buy you a new one," said Rossi shortly. "Are you good to go? We ought to keep moving."

Their luck was in. Two doorways later, they were approaching what appeared to be the rear exit of the building.

"You need to lose some weight," grunted Pip as they awkwardly made their way to what, hopefully, was their way out.

"Thought you liked it," muttered Rossi, concentrating on not tripping over his own feet. The alcohol in the air made breathing a heady experience. It wasn't dense enough to flash over yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Not while I'm trying to carry you out of a burning building I don't," she retorted.

The door, when they finally reached it, was locked. "Typical!" spat Pip. She propped him up against the doorframe. "Stay there a minute," she muttered, as if he was capable of running off by himself. Pip retrieved a set of lockpicks from her seemingly bottomless pockets and knelt down to set to work.

"You carry lockpicks wherever you go?" asked Rossi, grinning.

"Don't you?"

"You got a fire extinguisher in those famous pockets?"

"Must be in my other pants," replied Pip absently, concentrating on the lock. "Nearly…nearly," she muttered. There was a muted clunk from the lock. "Fuck it. Unlocked it, but the pick is jammed." She pushed open the door. "Ah, Dave? _Problem_."

There was a muffled, almost soft sort of sound, _whumpf,_ and a waft of warm alcoholic air. "One of the stills just ruptured," said Rossi, "this whole place is going to go up any second."

"Ok. Two problems."

Rossi hopped awkwardly through the door, clutching the frame for support. "What do you…oh."

It was a long way down. The river rushed past, swift and deep, a good fifty feet below them. The door they'd found wasn't an exit, just a door to a balcony to admire the view.

Rossi glanced at the river, at Pip, at the burning building behind them, and then back at the river. Maybe it was the alcohol in the air, but it seemed logically that the only way out, was down.

"You're not serious!" cried Pip incredulously, catching his train of thought. "You _can't_ be thinking what I _think_ you're thinking."

"It's that, or cook, unless you have any better ideas?" asked Rossi.

Pip looked over the side again. "No," she admitted slowly, "but I'm not exactly the world's best swimmer, Dave. I just about managed to not drown in order to pass my basic training, but that's about it. Dog-paddle, and if I stop, I sink."

"Well, _I'm_ a strong swimmer," he reassured her. "Even lame as I am. I'll keep hold of you, ok?" Pip still looked unsure but nodded. "Right, help me over this railing."

"This is _such_ a bad idea," said Pip as they stood awkwardly on the edge.

"Your objections are duly noted," replied Rossi. He reached for her hand. "On three. One, two…"

The stills finally blew, the shockwave knocking them from their feet. Rossi lost his grip on Pip and they both fell towards the rushing water, arms pinwheeling as they went.

It was colder than he'd expected for the time of year, and immersion in the river momentarily took his breath away. Rossi struck out for the surface and just trod water for a moment, gasping for air, letting the current carry him. Pip was nowhere to be seen. He did his best to get closer to the bank, still looking around for Pip as he swam. The current increased, pulling him along faster and faster as a white noise started to encroach on his hearing. Rossi gave up trying to fight against the river and concentrated on surviving what his ears told him was ahead.

The first drop was only a few feet and left him with little more than bruises. The next three were proper waterfalls with churning white-water rapids in between and were absolutely terrifying. Staying in the middle of the river seemed like the only option in order to avoid being beaten to a pulp by various rocks and in one instance, a shopping cart. It wasn't easy though, the water swirling and trying to send him sideways at every opportunity. It was like trying to swim through a washing machine. Just as Rossi was starting to get really tired, the last drop ejected him into a deep pool of thankfully calm water. He paddled his way wearily to the edge, and just draped himself over a large rock, utterly exhausted.

* * *

When he came around, the sun was getting low in the sky and he was cold. Really cold. It shouldn't be possible to be so cold in the height of summer, but he was. Rossi levered himself upright, instantly feeling warmer just because he wasn't face-first against wet stone. His ankle still hurt, but less than before. Rossi shifted himself into a sitting position to take stock.

The afternoon sun had dried the back of his clothes, and he had quite a nice sunburn developing on the back of his still sore neck. His front was still damp where he'd lain over the rock. Ironically, in his exhaustion, he'd left his battered ankle trailing in the chilly water when he'd beached himself like a dying whale. He prodded it gently. Less tender than it would have been if it hadn't been immersed in cold water for however many hours he'd been there.

Rossi cast about for a likely-looking branch to hobble about with and spotted one only a few feet away. Once mobile, sort of, he set off in search of Pip.

He found her nearly an hour later, laid flat on her back on the opposite side of the pool. By then it was almost dark, but he could see her face was reddened by hours in the sun. The cloth he'd tied around her arm had been washed pink in the water but had a dark streak that indicated she'd been bleeding afresh for a while before it had stopped.

Pip opened an eye as he approached. "Oh look, it's Long John Fucking Silver," she snorted. "That was fun, can we never do that again?"

Rossi lowered himself down onto a nearby boulder with a sigh. "I'm fine, thanks for asking," he said drily.

"Heard you coming half hour ago," replied Pip. "Figured if you could move about, you were alright. Seems like you've got more energy than I have, I haven't been this shattered since my little holiday in the desert."

Which was probably true, as unlikely as it sounded. He was better in the water than Pip, so if _he_ was exhausted, he could only imagine how she felt.

"One thing I am grateful for," noted Pip, "is that at least my pants have been rinsed out, because I'm pretty sure I pissed myself with fright when I went over that second drop."

Rossi laughed. "I had a moment like that," he agreed. "I nearly lost an argument with a shopping cart just before the third one."

"Might have known it would be your fault that I ran into it. I lost _my_ disagreement with that cart," complained Pip. "It was wedged between two boulders just up there." She waved a lazy hand in the general direction of the waterfall. "I ended up _in_ the fucking thing. I went over that last drop in it. Good job in the end, we hit a rock partway down and my trusty steed took the worst of the impact."

"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked. He wasn't exactly unscathed, if she was wounded too, it would make things considerably more difficult.

Pip sat up and shook her head. "No, but I think even my bruises have bruises and I must have swallowed about a quart of river water trying not to drown. You're a fucking trouble magnet, I'm never going in the field with you again."

"Let's get out of it first, before worrying about that," said Rossi, glancing around. "I lost my cell, we're going to have to walk and find the road."

"That's three you've lost or killed recently," smirked Pip. "Griffin is not going to be pleased with you." She waved hers at him smugly. "Still got mine, even if it is dead. Which way?"

Rossi shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I have no idea where we are."

"You're the one into all this outdoorsy shit," said Pip. "Can't you find your way home from the moss on trees or something?"

"This from the woman who survived in a desert for a year."

Pip shrugged. "Deserts is one thing. I was trained for that. Virginia? I might as well be a foreign tourist. Besides, all my kit is at home, if I'd known I was going to end up in the middle of fucking nowhere, I would have packed accordingly."

"What _have_ you got?" He only had his gun and badge, both of which would need a clean before either was recognisable. Thankfully his wallet and keys were tucked under the seat of the SUV parked in front of the remains of the distillery, although how well the car had survived the blast remained to be seen.

Pip turned out her pockets. It was a sorry looking pile.

Other than her soaked cell, Pip had her wallet, tangled up in a sodden handkerchief, one of his. It would have made a better bandage if he known about it at the time, but it was probably best to leave what he'd done in the hope that the wound was as clean as it was going to be. On top of that, she placed her door keys and her knives.

"That's it? Normally you've got a bit of everything," said Rossi, feeling a little disappointed. Pip was usually as well-prepared as an Eagle Scout.

Pip shrugged. "Rest is at the bottom of the river. You owe me a good set of lockpicks by the way, they were my favourites." She patted the rest of her pockets and drew out a squishy misshapen lump. "I do also appear to have a half-eaten protein bar. No idea how old it is, certainly wasn't this morning's." She pulled it roughly in half. "It's a little waterlogged, but probably still just as inedible as when I started it." Pip held out the larger half towards him. "Dinner is served?"

Breakfast was merely a distant memory, so Rossi gratefully accepted the gooey offering. The protein bar was _very_ waterlogged, and more than a little gritty too. Neither of them mentioned it.

They both agreed that stumbling around in the dark was a spectacularly stupid thing to try, and made the best of things for the night on the shore of the pool. Pip did have a flint and steel on her keychain, so they could at least start a fire. Rossi dragged some stones into a rough circle and they huddled round the crackling warmth together.

"This is kind of romantic, actually," commented Rossi, his arm around Pip's shoulders.

"I feel like I've been through a laundry cycle on spin and you're getting all amorous?" asked Pip, somewhat incredulously. "Talk about a one-track mind."

Rossi laughed. "I'm glad to be alive and I'm alone with a gorgeous woman who loves me. I can't help it," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"Lecherous old goat," she replied with a smile, leaning up to kiss him. "I appreciate the sentiment, if not the timing. You wait until I get you home. You have some _serious_ apologising to do."

They laughed softly together. Once warm and completely dry, Pip dozed off against him, totally worn out by their afternoon's adventures. Rossi laid her down with the tattered remains of his jacket as a pillow.

Rossi sat for a while and watched the stars. He'd forgotten most of what little he'd learned about celestial navigation, but he could see a glow on the horizon, presumably the still-burning distillery. Using that as a landmark, he could estimate which direction they'd need to move in once the sun came up. East, which would make life easier: all they had to do was head away from the river and aim into the rising sun, and eventually, they'd hit a road. That was something, anyway, enough that he could relax and give in to the weariness flowing through him. As the campfire burned down, Rossi lay down next to Pip, sure he'd never be able sleep on the hard ground.

* * *

He was awoken by an unusual version of the dawn chorus.

" _Just a look around_ , he said. _Need someone who speaks Italian_ , he said. Never mentioned getting blown up, drowned and sleeping outdoors with a rock digging into my butt," complained Pip. "I took a desk job to get away from all this bollocks. It's a good job I love you, or there'd be real fucking trouble."

Pip's voice and footsteps faded as she located a handy shrub to answer nature's call.

"Up you get, Einstein," she said as she returned. "I want a bath, a coffee and a plate of bacon the size of a truck tyre, none of which I will find anywhere near here."

Pip's bacon dependency was only rivalled by his own addiction to caffeine. Rossi sat up, a little stiffly. Sleeping on the ground at twenty was an easier ask than doing it at fifty-plus, especially given how strenuous the previous day had been. He stretched, wincing at the crackle of his spine and the soreness of his muscles, none of which had been helped by the position he'd slept in.

"How did you know I was awake?" he asked as he stumbled to his feet. His ankle still hurt, but less so. It wouldn't like walking over rough ground to the road, but he'd manage. Provided he had the branch he'd been using the night before on one side and Pip the other, that was.

Pip snorted. "You smile in your sleep, you snore in your sleep and sometimes you even _arrest people_ in your sleep. Never seen you roll your eyes in your sleep before, I assumed that was for my benefit." She shrugged. "Sooner we're moving, the sooner you can have coffee."

Actually, that sounded like a valid point, Rossi could already feel the caffeine-withdrawal headache starting to make its presence known. He made use of the same shrub Pip had visited and they set off, in what was hopefully the right direction.

Morgan found them before they'd made it to the road, although it was hard to say whether that was because he knew where to look, or if he'd been drawn by the litany of complaints still falling from Pip's mouth. It was somewhat of a relief when she dozed off again in the SUV as Morgan drove them back to Quantico.

Morgan filled Rossi in on what the team had found while he and Pip had been getting tumbled about in the river. Rossi let the words wash over him, trying to take it all in. The SUV Rossi had driven to the distillery had been flattened by a chunk of masonry that had once been part of the main building, but they'd found his wallet and keys. Once the flames had been doused, it was obvious how they'd escaped, the lock to the open balcony door still had Pip's pick in it, welded fast by the heat. Reid had worked out where they were most likely to have ended up, and from there it was a relatively simple task of retrieving them.

Regarding the case, they'd also made headway. Roberto had been involved in the shootings, but not as the gunman. There was something odd that Griffin had brought to Garcia's attention in the finances of the family business, and there were questions about the death of Signora Bianchi. Lots of questions, so few answers.

None of which they found that day. Not that Rossi saw any of the work, Morgan simply depositing them both at the hospital before dashing back to the BAU. Rossi and Pip endured being poked and prodded by a series of medical professionals nearly all day.

Pip had little patience for what she called "the unnecessary fussing" and ended up growling at the nurse who tried to stitch her arm. She startled her so badly his hands shook, which just infuriated Pip even further. She snatched the needle from the poor flustered man in the end, as if to do it herself.

"Calm down _bella_. It wasn't his fault," whispered Rossi, just loud enough for her to hear.

Pip breathed out and closed her eyes. "I know, I know. Dishes, think dishes." She handed back the needle. "Sorry," she muttered to the nurse.

Rossi chuckled as Pip sat there with her eyes closed, breaking dishes in her mind as the rather nervous guy sewed up her latest battle wound.

Phillips delivered Pip's truck to the hospital and Rossi had to let Pip drive him home, unable to work the gas pedal with his much-abused ankle. The take out they bought on the way home was barely tasted, and the pair of them fell into bed, asleep almost instantly.

The following morning, JJ phoned Rossi with news that they may have found at least one of their answers. With a renewed sense of purpose, helped by a decent night's sleep in a proper bed, Rossi had Pip take him back to the Bureau. By the time he'd made it into the office, that first answer had given them some more, and the team where nowhere to be seen, already out chasing another lead.

Money. It all came down to money, in the end. Didn't it always? Money or love, in some twisted form or other.

Pip drove Rossi to rendezvous with the team as they waited to execute a search and arrest warrant. She objected the whole way, pointing out that he was disobeying a medical order to stay off his still-swollen ankle for a few days.

Having been almost blown up for his trouble, Rossi was determined to at least see the arrest of the man responsible for his pain.

"Harker?" called Morgan as they pulled up. "What are you doing here?"

Pip hopped out of the car and trotted round to the passenger side like a chauffeur. "Apparently my duties as admin support include being designated driver for Special Agent Hop-Along," she said sarcastically, ignoring Rossi's huff of indignation.

Morgan grinned at the name. "Rossi, you're not even supposed to be back in the office," he said. "We got this."

"I know, I just want to see you drag him out in cuffs," growled Rossi. "I'm going to watch, and hope he runs, so I get a chance to shoot him. He killed six people, as well as ruining my favourite shirt."

Morgan laughed and rejoined the group of armed police he'd requested to help with serving the warrant. Which hadn't arrived yet.

"Remind me why we need a paper warrant?" Rossi asked Pip impatiently. "Wouldn't a telephone one be enough in the circumstances?"

"Not if your guy is as desperate as it sounds," muttered Pip. "If Penny couldn't find anything on this guy, then it's a federal identity, one of our own." She shrugged. "I've created and used a few of those over the years. He got burned and now he wants payback."

"None of which explains why we're standing here while that bastard is going about his usual morning, none the wiser," growled Rossi.

Pip laid a restraining hand on his arm, as if he was going to go hobbling after their suspect by himself. "I know guys like that. Even the sane ones tend to shoot first and ask the corpse questions later. Who knows what this one will do. You need something to wave at him or you're going to get your head blown off. After the last time someone pointed a gun at you, I'd rather not take the chance."

"Bullshit," retorted Rossi, "I'm not the one serving it." He gestured to his foot. "I couldn't outrun a snail at the moment, I'm not going anywhere near him."

"Too right." Pip sighed. "You're not a lawyer, and neither am I, but I have a very good one who works for me and he says you need a paper warrant." She shrugged. "I trust him. If Hank says so, then that's good enough for me."

They were interrupted by the rumble of an approaching motorcycle engine. The bike turned the corner and Rossi's mouth dropped open in shock. Pip reached over and gently closed it.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw it either. Trust me, it's an image that'll stay with you," she said with a smirk.

The approaching engine belonged to an enormous Harley Davidson, glittering with chrome. Astride it, looking a little like an elephant riding a child's bicycle, was a figure clothed head to toe in black tasselled leather.

"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" commented Pip casually.

The rider gunned the engine and coasted to a halt next to Rossi. Duffy lowered the scarf covering his face and fished in his leathers for a folded piece of paper.

"Here you are, sir," he said, holding the warrant out to Rossi. "Boss knew I was passing the courthouse and asked me to pick it up on my way."

Rossi took it dumbly. "Thank you, Hank," he managed.

Duffy nodded and pulled the scarf up over his nose and mouth once more. The engine roared into life and he sped away.

"Hey, Rossi!" called Morgan, trotting over to collect the warrant from Rossi's unresisting hand. "Since when do we get warrants delivered by the Hell's Angels?"

"Since they work for us, apparently," muttered Rossi, still staring at the space where Duffy had just been.

* * *

 _A/n: Not a lot of love and reviews recently, are you all still out there? This is almost the end of this story arc, and it will run straight into the start of season 7 with no breaks or pauses. However…I'm kinda struggling to get past the whole Carolyn dying thing and I've just started a new job. The third and final instalment will be delayed while I work around both those things. Don't expect anything until the autumn… Forestwytch_


	23. Reunion

_Reunion_

 _ **We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us - Ken Levine**_

Rossi sighed. So much had happened in such a short space of time that he was having trouble keeping up. Doyle had been spotted, found and caught. Declan was missing, the woman caring for him dead, and he was convinced Strauss had developed a drinking problem. Hotch was thankfully back from Afghanistan, sporting a rather scruffy-looking beard, but at least that meant Rossi wasn't Unit Chief anymore. On top of all that, Doyle hadn't been the one to kidnap his son, and the prime suspect was someone they had no idea how to catch.

Pip was in his office, making the most of a brief moment of his time to get some of the paperwork regarding the transfer of authority back to Hotch completed.

Hotch ducked his head in the door. He looked rather uptight and worried about something. "Dave, can I have a word?" Pip instantly stood to leave. "No, stay here Harker," he said, waving a hand. He inclined his head in Rossi's direction. "My office?"

Rossi exchanged blank looks and shrugs with Pip, neither of them immediately sure what it was all about, before following Hotch back to his office.

"Ok, I'm intrigued," said Rossi, settling himself across the desk from his friend. "What's up?"

"Emily's on her way back."

Rossi whistled. No wonder Hotch looked like hell. "Have you told them yet?"

Hotch shook his head. "Not yet. I'm going to tell all of you together, and I need you to play along."

"One secret at a time, huh?" commented Rossi a touch bitterly. He was starting to get a little sick of having to hide what he had with Pip, and his existing knowledge of the deception led right back to her and their relationship. He acknowledged Hotch's slightly sympathetic look with a dismissive hand. He knew he never had a choice in the matter. "No problem. Why now?"

Hotch frowned. "We won't catch Gerace without Emily's help, Dave. Regardless of how everyone feels about it, it was my decision to tell everyone she was dead. Now there's a young boy in danger, she's coming back, and I'll have to live with the consequences." He paused. "All of them," he added heavily.

Rossi nodded. It wasn't just the feelings of the team Hotch was thinking about. Hotch's own were also in the mix. Which was probably most of the reason behind the advance warning. He might have to play along, but that wouldn't stop Rossi keeping an eye on Hotch while he did so.

Hotch gestured vaguely behind him to the wall they shared. "I assume she knows Emily's alive."

"Yeah," admitted Rossi. "Given the things she's shared with me, it felt only right to reciprocate." He paused to give Hotch a significant look. "That's _all_ she knows, though." He'd kept what Hotch felt for Emily out of their conversations about Emily's death. "As far as I'm aware, anyway. You should know she has an uncanny knack for seeing things like that," he added, as that occurred to him, "but she would never say anything."

Hotch nodded and leaned back to bang three times on the wall with an old building block of Jack's that he kept on his desk.

Moments later, Pip appeared in the doorway. "Yes, sir?"

"Close the door, Harker and take a seat," said Hotch, indicating the seat next to Rossi.

"You told her our code?" asked Rossi, not quite sure how he felt about that. Was nothing about the male bond sacred anymore?

Hotch raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I rather thought you would have."

So much for thoughts on the sanctity of their friendship. Just how whipped did Hotch really think he was? "No," replied Rossi, a little disgruntled. "I didn't."

They both turned to look at Pip, by that time sitting demurely next to Rossi in front of Hotch's desk and looking far too innocent.

"What?" she asked defensively, with a rather belligerent shrug. "Jeez, wasn't like it was _that_ hard. Two for "we've got a case", three for "come and see me" and two double taps for "I've got the bottle out of the bottom drawer, bring the glasses"."

Hotch shot Rossi a disbelieving look, as if doubting his word about not telling her. They'd only come up with that last one the day before he flew to Afghanistan, and hadn't yet used it.

"If Hotch didn't tell you," started Rossi, bristling with curiosity, "and I know _I_ didn't," he added for Hotch's benefit, "then how _do_ you know?"

Pip shot him a rather condescending smile. "For such an intelligent man, you do say some incredibly stupid things sometimes." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him, as if simply dismissing that as just another of his odd quirks.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Pip asked Hotch, ignoring Rossi spluttering next to her.

Hotch laughed a little at Rossi's expression, and some of the stress on his face and posture bled away. Even if it was at his own expense, Rossi was glad to see it go. You could probably play a tune with the tightly wound tension across Hotch's shoulders. Pip shifted a little in her seat, using her movement to fleetingly catch his eye. She'd also seen the change.

"Agent Prentiss will be re-joining the team," said Hotch. "She's on her way back now, I'm hoping to be able to offer her the option of her old job back."

Pip raised an eyebrow and smirked. "That'll make for some interesting paperwork." The smirk faded into a frown of concentration; her mind already turning, working out what creative administrative leaps she was going to have to take in order to do what Hotch wanted.

"Physical will have to wait, but they'll want one to prove she's not dead," she muttered, counting things out on her fingers. "Firearms re-cert, new creds, I'll let Griff deal with the pension service, I usually just end up shouting at them and then they hang up on me. Hank can deal with the phoney death certificate issue, I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole. I can probably swing consultant status for the duration of this case fairly easily, provided no one makes a song and dance about her return; and I should have at least confirmation of an offer of a job in…" Pip glanced upwards to the ceiling as if calculating something. "Three days? Maybe? If Strauss isn't difficult about it."

Hotch snorted. "When have you ever known that to be the case?"

Pip shrugged. Rossi had expected her to laugh, or at least agree. When she didn't, he shot her a sideways glance, noting the tension in her jaw as she focussed on not biting her lip. He made a mental note to ask her about that later. Maybe she had seen some of the same things he had.

"As long as it's before we find Declan Doyle," muttered Hotch, "she can be as difficult as she likes."

In the privacy of his own head, Rossi analysed that sentence. Hotch wanted something to offer Emily to encourage her stay in the BAU. To stay close to him.

Pip nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll need to tell my team, I can't do this all on my own." She let out a rueful chuckle. "I know I make it look like I run the place single-handedly, but I don't, not really. I'll need them."

Hotch frowned. "Make sure they know they're not to breathe a word until I've told mine," he said sternly.

Pip nodded again. "Of course, sir. How long have we got before Agent Prentiss arrives?"

"I'm about to leave to pick her up from the airstrip." Hotch's eyes darted down and to the side. "I'll need you to sign her through security while I brief the team."

"I see."

Even Hotch picked up on the overtones of smugness in her voice and his head shot up sharply to meet hers. "Harker…" he started warningly, eye narrowed.

"You're the boss," interrupted Pip firmly. "None of my business. I know nothing."

Hotch breathed out through his nose. "Thank you," he muttered.

Hotch dismissed her back to her team and stood to retrieve his coat. Rossi watched through the window as Pip gathered her little group into a huddle. Rossi smirked as her hand subtly crept up behind Griffin's head.

Phillips simply nodded. He was utterly unflappable. Where Pip used a combined carrot and stick approach, even the best excuses for late paperwork simply slid off Phillips like he had a non-stick coating. He'd listen carefully and then simply repeat his request, but a little louder. He took everything in his stride without missing a beat.

Duffy didn't even nod, but then he was so easy-going it was hard to imagine him being shocked about anything. He considered everything like the lawyer he was, carefully weighing both sides of any argument before making a decision. His lack of response was completely expected. Rossi snorted. They'd find out Duffy's reaction in maybe a week.

Pip caught Griffin's head with her waiting hand and forced it back down as he jerked upwards in shock. Rossi smiled. Griffin was like a young puppy, all full of excitement and eager to please. His strategy of dealing with Agents late with work was usually a doleful disappointed look that made you feel like you'd just run over a family pet. He wore all his emotions right out there on his sleeve for all to see, and Rossi wasn't surprised he hadn't been able to keep a straight face when Pip had broken the news.

Her team had taken it exactly the way he thought they would.

AST fanned out, a tangible sense of urgency thrumming through them as they set to work.

"She's very perceptive," muttered Hotch, pausing with his hand on the door handle. "You warned me, but even so…"

"About some things," agreed Rossi, "and yet…completely blind about others," he added a little sadly. His hand subconsciously crept down to his pocket where _it_ rested.

He'd taken to carrying it around with him, unable to think of a place where she wouldn't come across it accidentally. There had been something of an impulse purchase about it, but as soon as he'd seen it, he'd known it was perfect. Completely her. He'd bought something else at the same time, almost as mental camouflage, something to take his mind off the _other_ thing he'd bought. Pip had been overjoyed with a bracelet to match the apple pendant, and watching her work, Rossi could occasionally catch a glimpse of gold around her wrist.

"Problems?" asked Hotch, dropping his hand from the handle and taking a couple of steps closer to where Rossi still stood at the window, watching her. "Anything I should know?"

"Only that she doesn't see just how invested I am," said Rossi, finally allowing his hand to slip into his pocket and retrieve the small box. He tossed it gently in Hotch's direction. "She's not ready for this."

Hotch dropped his coat to catch it. "Dave…is this what I think it is?" He opened the box. "It is." He looked up, an array of emotions flickering across his face, finally settling on concern. "Do you know what you're doing? If she's not ready…"

Rossi snorted ruefully. "Why do you think I'm carrying it around with me, rather than hiding it somewhere? If she finds it…" He shrugged. "Trouble is, it's burning a hole in my pocket, I don't know how much longer I can wait."

Hotch closed the box and bent down to retrieve his coat from the floor. "Put it in my top drawer. Harker would never go in there." He handed the box back to Rossi and turned back to the door. "Wish me luck," he muttered as he left.

Rossi tucked the incriminating box away where Hotch had suggested. "Good luck, Aaron," he whispered into the silence.

The look on Hotch's face spoke volumes as he joined the team in the conference room for what Pip had dubbed "The Big Reveal". His body language was stiff and unyielding, tension writ clear across his shoulders and the pressure gauge at his temple beating a wild tattoo.

His conversation with Emily had gone as well as Rossi's first one with Pip. She'd turned him down. So much for being worth the wait.

Sat where he was, Rossi could see a reflection of Pip talking with Duffy at the end of the ramp up towards the conference room. There was no reason they'd choose such an awkward place for a chat, unless…Rossi narrowed his eyes. There was a third pair of legs hidden behind Duffy. Emily.

Rossi snorted softly. Hotch and Pip were _choreographing_ Emily's return, using Duffy's bulk to keep Emily out of sight until they were ready for the team to see her. Rossi caught JJ's eye across the table and they exchanged knowing glances.

It was an emotional reunion, although it was clear both Reid and Morgan would need some time to come to terms with the deception. Rossi watched JJ cringe a little. It may not have been her idea, but she was definitely already shouldering the worst of the blame for it.

Emily and Hotch avoided each other's eyes the entire time.

* * *

Everyone had gone, but there was still a light on in Hotch's office. Rossi stole a quick peek, then retreated to collect the scotch and a pair of glasses from his bottom drawer. If ever there was a night Hotch needed a friend, then it was that one. Emily was back, Doyle was dead and by tomorrow afternoon, they'd probably all be suspended. If not fired outright.

Rossi hesitated at the closed door. Hotch only closed his door when he didn't want company.

"Let me," said Pip softly from his elbow. She took the bottle and the tumblers from his grasp.

Rossi eyed her uncertainly. "Are you sure? He needs a friend…"

"There are some things you can only talk about with another woman," insisted Pip. "And you were his superior once, he looks up to you. My relationship with him is different." She smiled. "Let me see if I can't mother him a little."

Rossi's lips twitched briefly amusement. "Like you do the rest of us?"

Pip nodded. "Exactly."

"You want me to wait for you?"

"No, no I don't think so," said Pip thoughtfully. "I think he'll open up more if he knows you're not lurking next door. I'll see you later."

Rossi nodded and left her to it.

As midnight came and went, Rossi started to wonder if Pip had gone home rather than coming to him. By 1am, he'd put his shoes on twice to drive to her place and taken them off again. He was putting them on again for the third time half an hour later, when he heard a car pull up outside.

Rossi threw open the door in time to see the rear lights of a cab swinging back out onto the main road and Pip fall over a pot plant at the bottom of his front steps.

"Oops," slurred Pip. She bent over to pick up the plant and ended up sitting next to it instead. "Sorry," she said seriously to it as she righted the pot. "Di'n' mean it," she added, apologetically stroking a leaf.

Rossi bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing. He'd seen Pip tipsy, but she rarely drank to that kind of excess.

"Had fun, did we?" he asked, unable to stop himself laughing as Pip knocked the pot over again in the process of standing up.

"Hi!" cried Pip, a huge drunken smile on her face. "I owe y' a bottle."

Rossi gaped at her. "You drank it all?"

"And his. We go' a lil carried away," giggled Pip and sat down heavily on the steps again when climbing them proved too difficult.

"I'll say," muttered Rossi and hauled her to her feet. He guided Pip inside and upstairs to bed, a task hindered by her inability to walk or think in a straight line. She was snoring contentedly before Rossi had even finished undressing.

He had intended to let her sleep in a little, but Pip was up before he was, stumbling around his kitchen in search of coffee. "You're up early," he said loudly from the doorway, biting back a smirk as Pip winced.

"Keep it down," she muttered, laying her head down on the marble worktop. "Ooh, that feels nice," she said, rolling her head back and forth across the cool stone.

"What did you two talk about all night?" asked Rossi, reaching around her to fill his own mug from the pot.

"I don't kiss and tell," mumbled Pip.

"There was kissing?" teased Rossi. He took a sip of his coffee. "Should I be worried?"

"He doesn't have enough Italian blood for my taste." Pip snorted. "I seem to remember actually saying that to him at one point."

"What else did you say?"

Pip straightened up and shook her head. "Ow. Shouldn't have done that. You think you could tell the sun not to shine so loudly?" she complained.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" asked Rossi. Pip really must be feeling the after-effects of her night with Hotch, because she was usually far more subtle in avoiding questions she didn't want to answer.

"No."

That was all the answer he got, and was ever likely to get, either.

* * *

"How does he do it?" hissed Pip as she passed Rossi in the bullpen later that morning. "I woke up wanting to be dead, but he looks like he got a full eight hours sleep last night. It's not fair."

Rossi had to chuckle. Hotch certainly didn't look like he'd been up all night getting irresponsibly drunk with Pip in his office. In fact, Hotch seemed to be more focussed than ever.

"I think whatever you said to him worked," Rossi replied.

Pip brightened noticeably. "That makes it all worth it, in that case." She gave him a satisfied nod, and left him in the middle of the room, wondering why he'd never seen before just how much Hotch's wellbeing mattered to her, not just professionally, but emotionally too.

With Hotch's seeming absence of a hangover in mind, Rossi stuck his head around Hotch's doorway. "Hi!" he said, a little louder than necessary, grinning when Hotch winced a little. He wasn't as unaffected as he was making out to be.

"Far too much good cheer for a man who's just been suspended," snapped Hotch, thrusting a piece of paper Rossi's way.

Rossi scanned the document quickly. "So I get to sit in the garden for a few weeks while they prevaricate over what happened." Rossi shrugged. "We ran seventeen cases in fourteen weeks, most of them with only the three of us plus Pip and Garcia. Much longer at that pace and you could put my cause of death down as "excessive paperwork"," quipped Rossi, "I don't know about you, but I could do with the time off."

Hotch snorted. "Wasn't quite how I felt about it. And it's not going to be long, there's going to be a Senate hearing in a week's time. Harker bounced up here earlier to tell me that. Wish I knew where she hears these things from, she pre-empted the official paperwork by about two hours and the phone call by one."

Rossi wished he knew too, but more importantly, he wanted to know why she hadn't told him about the hearing. "So, I suppose we're leaving the BAU in her hands?" he joked.

Hotch held his gaze. "No, Dave. She's been suspended too."

A Senate hearing into the death of Ian Doyle wasn't exactly a surprise, given how they'd got into the situation in the first place and the loss of two agents along the way. That Pip was to be dragged up in front of the committee in addition to the profiling team _was_ a surprise. Her involvement with Morgan's one-man crusade and the surveillance of Declan wasn't as minor as she'd made out, it seemed.

Nor was she going to tell him. That became clear when Pip stormed out of his office when Rossi tried to corner her about it. She made a quick stop at Phillip's desk and swept right on out of the Bureau without so much as a backwards glance in his direction.

Wondering just how bad things could be, Rossi called JP.

"You're late," quipped the lawyer. "I expected this phone call about an hour ago."

Rossi grunted, unamused by JP's attempt at humour. "How deep is she in this?"

"Look, I may act like I know everything, but it's not _actually_ true," protested JP. "I only have rumours and each new one is more outlandish than the last. That's politics for you. She wasn't just sat outside watching, I can say that for definite, but beyond that? I can't be sure. What did she tell you?"

"To take my stiff indignation and go fuck myself with it."

JP choked, tried to hold back the laughter, and failed. "Stiff indignation…oh that's priceless!" He snorted, dissolving into gales of laughter again. "I might have to keep that one," he said when his laughter had tapered off to the occasional snigger.

Despite his mood, Rossi started to smile. Not as creative as some of the things Pip had come out with over the years, but definitely one of her top ten.

"I think your best bet is to ignore the whole thing," said JP once he'd got himself under control. "Find her, then ravish her until she can't breathe. She'll be far more amenable after that. Works on Mark every time."

* * *

Pip wasn't at the mansion when he got home, and Rossi realised he felt rather stupid for assuming she'd go to his place. Less than an hour after opening his own front door, Rossi was closing it again behind him, bag in hand on his way to Pip's.

The worst of Pip's temper had obviously blown itself out by the time he slipped into her apartment. It was warm and stuffy on the third floor, enough that Rossi was a little jealous of Griffin on the ground floor with his large sash windows. Pip was lounged out on her beanbag just in her underwear, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she played on her games console. Rossi took a moment to admire the view. Being up in the warm did have its advantages…and perhaps JP's advice wasn't such a bad idea.

"Either sit down and pick up a controller or bugger off," said Pip, eyes still focussed on the screen. "You're cluttering up the place and making it look untidy."

"How would you tell?" asked Rossi teasingly, depositing his bag on the sofa and perching on the edge of the beanbag. He winced as his knees popped as he sat down.

Pip paused the game to thrust the other controller into his hand. Rossi used her momentary distraction to pull her sideways and shift his body weight so that he now occupied most of the beanbag, while Pip ended up in his lap.

"Makes it difficult to play like this," she complained.

"Depends on the game," Rossi murmured into her neck, nibbling his way down. His hands encircled her waist, toying with the lacy edge of her underwear. Pip turned to look at him over her shoulder and Rossi kissed her deeply, leaving her with no doubt as to his intentions. "What were you saying?" he asked teasingly as they parted.

Pip tossed her controller to one side. "I have no idea." She stood and pulled him up from the beanbag, towing him in the direction of the bedroom.

* * *

 _A/N: This is the end for The Long Summer. It's been another epic journey, thanks for coming along for the ride! I really appreciate every like, follow and review. There's another chapter of Missing Conversations which covers Pip's evening with Hotch for those who are interested…contains useful info my version of It Takes a Village (for when I get around to publishing the as-yet-unnamed 3_ _rd_ _and final act to this story). See you in the autumn – or sooner if I find some inspiration! Forestwytch_


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